Into the Woods
by CereuleanBlue
Summary: Based off Little Red Riding Hood & not your typical Bella/Jacob. Who's really the big bad wolf?  All wolves don't have fur...  Rated M for future lemons.
1. Prologue

Into the Woods – Jacob/Bella

**A/N: I'm not into long a/n's so I'm just going to give you the basics here. This story is based on Little Red Riding Hood, but maybe not the version you know. It is set in Medieval France. Isabelle and her father Charles, the Marquis du Cygne, live in a little village surrounded by dense forests. You might think you already know how this story ends, but then again, you might be wrong.**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. All the other nonsense is from my whacked out imagination.**

-x-x-x-

"At childhood's end, the houses petered out  
into playing fields, the factory, allotments  
kept, like mistresses, by kneeling married men,  
the silent railway line, the hermit's caravan,  
till you came at last to the edge of the woods.  
It was there that I first clapped eyes on the wolf."

- from _Little Red Cap_ by Carol Anne Duffy

-x-x-x-

Prologue

He watched the girl from the relative safety of the forest, drinking in her delicious scent deeply as she gathered flowers just beyond the shadow cast by the trees. Her brilliant, scarlet cloak trailed out behind her in the breeze, the color shocking against the gray of the overcast sky beyond.

She looked simply scrumptious, the tiny little morsel of a woman that she was, and part of him desperately wished for her to stray just a little too close to the line of trees, close enough for him to taste. He continued to study her, tantalized by the pale softness of her arms and hands that peeked from beneath the cloak every few moments. He was so distracted by the vision that she presented that he unwittingly trod on a stick that lay unnoticed on the forest floor.

The sudden snap sent her wheeling around to find the source of the sound. She peered blindly into the darkness, and he froze, knowing she'd never be able to find him if he sat unmoving in the gloom.

Much to his surprise, her deep brown eyes found his almost immediately and stirred something within him. He no longer wished to simply ingest her; he now wanted to possess her wholly, body, mind, and soul, this strange girl who seemed to beckon him across the distance. He fought the urge to take her here and now, in broad daylight from the village itself. It would have meant almost certain doom for them all.

Instead, he forced himself to slowly back away into the welcoming embrace of the trees. Her eyes never left his, until he moved behind one of the ancient elms to escape from the stare which had laid him bare. When their eye contact was broken, something inside him broke as well. The strange spell she'd held him under dissolved into the chill spring air, and he shook with the force of the change within him.

Where the young man had just stood, a large wolf now poised, muscles tensed. His glowing yellow eyes silenced all the life around him. No birds sang. No squirrels chattered over a fallen acorn. Silence reigned. With one last backwards glance, the wolf bounded off into the deep woods.

-x-x-x-


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**A/N: I'd like to thank all of my reviewers for the kind words and encouragement. You have responded so much more positively than I ever expected to such a short prologue. I never imagined it.**

**So here's where we begin to really meet the characters. Just to warn you a few of them are OOC.**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer, all the rest of this stuff is a product of my twisted brain. Enjoy.**

-x-x-x-

"Once upon a time, the old books said,  
A winsome girl in a Riding Hood Red,  
Fell prey to Mr. Wolf when he searched for his bread.

But the books are wrong (as books may be),  
For a strange thing happened, as we shall see."

-From _How the Red Bud Came_ by Kate Stephens

-x-x-x-

Isabelle sat watching the snow as it slowly drifted down from the gray sky through the window in her chambers. The weather outside had been growing steadily colder as the day progressed, and she worried that it would delay her father's arrival from Paris for another day. She was ready for him to return home. The empty castle was a lonely place for the only surviving daughter of the Marquis du Cygne. All the residents of the small hamlet were kind but overly deferential, and none of them would have dared to engage the future Marquise in casual conversation.

Her sole companion during the past fortnight had been her chambermaid Rosalie who now grew great and slow with child. She was expected to deliver at any moment. This was yet another reason Isabelle was eager to have her father at home. She wasn't sure she could take care of the situation on her own if Rosalie's time should come, and she was the de facto mistress of the household while he was away.

Rosalie's husband had been lost hunting some six months ago. It appeared some animal, most likely a wolf, had gotten the better of him. The girl had wept bitterly at the news, falling on the floor in a heap. She'd been carried to a room to lie down and didn't rise from the bed for days afterward. Only recently, had she even begun to be something like her old self. The Marquis had asked the girl to take up residence in the castle itself rather than return to her parents' crowded home in the village, and she had accepted. She now occupied the rooms adjacent to Isabelle's in order to be available to the girl both day and night. At least, that's what she believed. In truth, Isabelle's father had asked her to be vigilant over the health of Rosalie and her unborn child.

Isabelle enjoyed Rosalie's company and was happy to have someone so nearby in the now mostly empty house. They were the same age, seventeen, though Rosalie had been married for over a year now. Truthfully, Isabelle was a little old to remain unmarried. In their village, it was common for girls to become marriageable at fourteen, and they were usually wed with children of their own by seventeen.

However, Isabelle's father had always been protective and jealous of his last remaining child. The entire village understood; it wasn't a usual occurrence to lose six daughters before the age of five and a wife during the birth of the seventh. Isabelle herself had been a weak baby. No one had thought she would live to see even her first birthday, and they all knew that death would have been the final nail in the Marquis's coffin.

In the end, the girl had survived thanks to near constant care by the village midwife, Esme. The girl was even put out to wet nurse at Madame Esme's cottage in the forest for the first year of her life. Thankfully, the midwife had recently given birth to a son of her own, and the two children were raised as brother and sister until the influenza took the boy and his father in one vile week. That had been just after Isabelle had returned to the palace with her new governess.

Madame Esme had become something of a hermit in the intervening years only leaving her home to attend to the birthing mothers of Cygne. The village was a small place, and the instances when her help was required were relatively few. No one would see her face for weeks at a time.

"Mademoiselle?" The familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. Isabelle realized that she hadn't stirred from the window seat for some time.

"Rosalie, when Papa is not at home, would you please call me Isabelle? Hearing Mademoiselle makes me feel like an old maid." She signed and stretched her legs, now stiff and tingling from sitting for so long.

Rosalie smiled, "Oui, Madam… Isabelle." She struggled with the familiarity of addressing her mistress by her first name, but shook it off quickly. "Cook would like to know if she should prepare dinner for the Marquis or just yourself."

Isabelle slowly rose from the seat and paced for a moment considering her response. "I'm not sure. Tell her to prepare enough for Papa just in case. Perhaps the snow will not have slowed his progress much, it is falling rather gently at the moment."

Rosalie nodded and dropped a small curtsey before turning to leave the room.

"Rosalie?" Isabelle called, stopping her before her exit was complete. The girl turned again. "How is it with you and your child?"

"Well, I'm certain it shall be any day now. Her movements have slowed, and I can feel the weight of her has dropped lower in my belly." Her hands wrapped protectively around her bulging stomach.

"So you are expecting a girl, ma chère?"

"Oui, Maman tells me it must be so, for the baby has carried so high all this time, and I have craved the taste of sweets throughout." Rosalie smiled gently, and her eyes softened at the thought of her child. Isabelle thought her the most beautiful girl she'd ever seen in all her life.

"Well, I shall pray to Saint Margaret on your behalf. By God's grace, she shall have her mother's beauty and her father's strength." Rosalie's smile grew sad at the mention of her husband but nodded, leaving the room without speaking.

Isabelle felt remorse for bringing any more sadness to Rosalie's life. She'd suffered so much already and really didn't need any reminders of what she'd lost. Isabelle worried for Rosalie's health if anything should happen to the child she carried, and she quickly crossed herself and fell to her knees in prayer for the girl. The window beyond her gazed out upon the still falling snow.

It was late for snow that year. The spring flowers had already begun to bloom, and the Marquis had thought it safe to chance a voyage to Paris. A sudden cold snap had fallen, blanketing the landscape first in ice, then in snow. The multicolored buds had wilted on their blighted stems.

Much to her disappointment, Isabelle's father would be detained that evening, choosing to ride out the storm in a tavern along the roadside rather than chance a journey through the snow. He would not arrive back at the castle until sometime the next morning.

It is strange how one little decision, like spending one extra night away from home, can make so much difference, but choosing the correct path through the forest can mean the difference between making it out of the woods alive or not at all. Be careful which path you choose.

**A/N: Please excuse my horrible French. If I made any mistakes in it feel free to let me know. I'm going off what I learned in 2 years of high school and 2 years of college French classes. From what I can recall, Cygne (the name of their village) is "swan" in French… I hope.**


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**A/N: Special thanks to ThatPanicGirlE, loss4words and kennedymommy3 for pre-reading this story for me and letting me know that it was good enough to let go to the rest of you. All the grammatical errors are mine.**

***Maman – French version of Mama (not a misspelling)**

***Guilliame - French form of William (*cough* Billy *cough*)**

***The cook is an OC (*gasp*). **

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The rest of this is crap I come up with in my free time.**

-x-x-x-

"Because maidens

Burn

Like celluloid,

They fitted

Me

With a

Hood,

A

Fire-fighting

Talisman

For

My own

Inner blaze."

-from _Red Riding Hood had a pretty good time with the wolf_ by Karen Daly

-x-x-x-

Darkness fell like a cloak over the snow dusted village, and Isabelle dined alone for yet another evening before the great fire in the dining hall. The table here held chairs enough to seat the current residents of the castle many times over. In fact, the only souls currently in residence were Isabelle, Rosalie and the aged cook. Her father had taken his driver and valet along to Paris, and old Guilliame, the groundskeeper, had his own home below in the village.

Once upon a time, the castle had been full and bustling, but never in Isabelle's lifetime. Occasionally, there were visitors, distant relatives and family friends come to visit, but most of the year this was a lonely place. Isabelle had grown used to the silence and seclusion for it was the only home she had ever known.

Her father had never allowed her to travel beyond the borders of Cygne, not even to the edge of the path leading through the forest since she had been weaned and returned to her father's care so many years ago. Most of her knowledge of the outside world had come from the tales her father told and the books he brought back with him from every trip he'd taken since she was old enough to flip the pages. Isabelle's library had cost a small fortune because each letter had been copied by hand onto sheepskin by monks toiling ceaselessly in small candlelit cells with quills grasped tightly in ink stained fingers.

After dining, Isabelle had settled into the huge curtained bed in her room with a familiar copy of children's tales. The smell of leather and vellum filled her nostrils as she opened the cover, and the illustration of a small girl standing in a huge, dark wood dominated the top of the first page. She ran her finger lovingly over the carefully inked design, noting the detail in each and every careful pen stroke. Her concentration was disrupted by a timid knock on the door.

"Mademoiselle," she recognized the cook's voice immediately and jumped out of bed to fling the door open.

"Whatever is the matter? You should be long in bed by now." Isabelle knew that something must be dreadfully wrong for the cook to be at her door at this hour. The old woman never came up the stairs unless it was absolutely necessary, and she was usually in bed as soon as the dishes from the last meal of the day were cleared and put away.

"Rosalie…" The first word out of the cook's mouth gave away the rest of her sentence.

"Oh my, her child is coming, isn't it?" Isabelle's hand flew to her chest.

The cook nodded.

"Has the midwife been sent for?" Isabelle hurried around the room, leaving the book forgotten on her bed.

"No milady. There is no one here to make the journey. Guilliame has gone home for the night, and none remain but we three." The woman sounded worried, causing Isabelle's heart beat to quicken its pace.

"Of course," Isabelle felt stupid for not realizing the obvious, "and you cannot journey through the snow. I'm surprised you made it up the stairs. I suppose I must go." Isabelle pulled her working dress on, not bothering to draw the laces of the bodice in her haste. She slipped on a pair of sturdy shoes and withdrew a long, red velvet cloak from the wardrobe.

"Milady, you can't go out alone. Your father will have my neck if I allow you to wander out into the forest at night with no supervision," the cook stammered.

"Who shall go with me, pray tell? Don't worry. I will take Papa's pistol with me and Maman's cloak is warm enough for a windless night like tonight. The snow has stopped, and the moon is full; the path will be well lit." Isabelle's heart now raced at the prospect of going out into the night alone, past the borders of her father's limitations. At last, it was a chance to be free, if only for an hour.

There was no one here to stop her. Cook would give in to Isabelle. She always did with just a little pressure. Her cloak was old but warm. It was the one thing of her mother's she had left. Her father had rid the castle of anything he could find that had belonged to his wife. Isabelle found the beautiful cloak, feeding moths, stowed away in a trunk hidden in one of the many storage rooms of the castle. One of the maids told her the fur-lined, blood-red garment had been a part of her mother's trousseau.

The Marquis didn't have the heart to take it from her when she begged his permission to keep it. That hungry look in her eyes made it impossible to tell her no. So, the young girl had taken to wearing it whenever possible, and the entire village recognized it on sight. The Marquis had assumed that the cloak would wear into threads before long. It was older than the girl herself by nearly ten years, but somehow, it seemed to grow more beautiful with each year she wore it.

"Please be careful, milady," Cook begged. "If anything should happen to you, I could never forgive myself, and promise me that you'll not stray from the path. Please…" The woman's voice was pleading, like the consequences for straying from the path were life and death.

"I'll be fine. Now, go tend to Rosalie. I'll be back as quickly as I can manage with Madame Esme." She shooed the cook back down the corridor and made her way up the stairs to her father's study with a lantern in hand. Finding his writing table, she pulled down sharply on the wooden trim at the front of the desk to reveal a hidden drawer. Concealed inside was a pistol, loaded and ready to fire, and a large hunting knife in a worn leather sheath. Isabelle slipped both of these items into the pocket on the right side of her cloak and grabbed the lantern for a quick flight down the stairs into the moonlit night.

In the distance, a howl rose up to meet the silver moon, and the longing in it sent a chill down her spine. She quickly shrugged it off, pulling the cloak around her shoulders tightly to ward off the chill in the icy air, and hurried down the path towards the forest.

Unfortunately, Isabelle did not know that wolves come in more forms than just those clad in fur. Some are dressed in skin and clothes, walking around disguised as human beings, and those are the most dangerous of all.

-x-x-x-

**A/N: Judging from the reviews I've gotten, I think some of you like this story. Thanks for not telling me I'm nuts or stupid. Next chapter is where Jacob makes his debut. I'll post it as soon as I get chapter 5 written. I'm trying to stay 2 chapters ahead of you guys. Wish me luck, lol.**


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for the response guys. I didn't expect people to like reading a Jacob/Bella fic, but people have come and told me that they've never read or liked a J/B fic before, but they're loving this one. I'm truly flattered.**

**FYI - A league is approximately 3 miles. In the Middle Ages, it was determined as the distance that a person could walk in an hour. Yeah, I know there hasn't been a lot of dialogue in the last few chapters**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The rest of this is a byproduct of too little sleep and too many medications.**

-x-x-x-

"Little Red Riding Hood

I don't think even big girls should

Go walkin' in these spooky old woods alone."

-From _Lil' Red Riding Hood _by Bowling for Soup

-x-x-x-

Isabelle held the lantern high over her head, casting shadows on the path ahead that danced and flickered in the wavering light. The trees twisted in the breeze that had suddenly come up in the past few minutes. She was too far into the woods to see any evidence of the village behind her and well past any familiar ground.

Even during the day, this would have been a dark place. The trees arching overhead blocked the sky from view, so the full moon was of no use to her. Each step was taken cautiously as she carefully examined the ground around her to avoid tripping over the roots that grew out of the soil at odd intervals.

A voice that seemed to appear out of thin air startled her so that she had to choke back a shriek.

"Bonjour, ma petite. What is such a little thing as you doing out so late at night?"

Isabelle quickly backed into a tree, her deep brown eyes wide with fright. She could see no one within the small circle of light cast by the lantern.

"Who's there?" She inquired in the general direction the voice had come from.

"Don't worry. I won't bite." A laugh. This time it was much closer, from only a few yards down the path. She held the lantern up, and to her surprise illuminated a pair of feet shot in brown leather boots.

"Monsieur, step into the light so I can see you, sil-vous-plait." She strained to make out more than just the bare outline of his form, barely noticeable against the black night beyond. All she could determine was that he was tall and broad shouldered. Her heart raced away from her, like a rabbit fleeing a pursuing dog. After a moment's hesitation, he stepped forward, revealing his entire visage to her in the dim light.

Much to her surprise, he was young, barely older than herself. His face was clean shaven and smiling, revealing two rows of perfect, white teeth. A shock of black hair rested atop his head, and his skin was darkened by the sun. His hands, rough and calloused, hung by his sides. They were the hands of a farmer or hunter rather than those of a lord.

"Why you are barely more than a boy." She laughed that the source of all her discomfort should have been this young man. His smile seemed friendly enough.

"Well, mademoiselle, what did you suppose I might be, a wolf?" He laughed, and it sounded like a bark cutting into the otherwise silent air of the forest.

"No. I …" she stammered, unsure of how to answer. Her inner sense of courtesy forbade her from telling the young man that she had been frightened of him, but there was something about the look in his eye when spoke to her that made her feel a little wary.

"Pardon me," he bowed low before her. "I have been remiss in introducing myself. My name is Jacob. And who might you be?" he inquired, rising gracefully.

"Oh," Isabelle's hand flew to the clasp on her cloak. "Isabelle du Cygne." She dipped in a small curtsey. "It is a pleasure to meet you, monsieur."

"The pleasure is all mine." He grinned and gently took hold of the hand that was at her throat, drawing it smoothly to his lips and planting a gentle kiss on the pale skin there. "But, I must ask again. What is such a beautiful young lady as yourself doing out on a wild night such as this? It's not fit out for man nor beast, especially so for the daughter of the Marquis."

"How did you…" She dropped her hand, and her eyes widened in surprise.

"Everyone here knows who Isabelle du Cygne is, milady, even if we have not all had the pleasure of meeting you face to face. Your father is away, ne c'est pas?" He raised an eye brow in question.

"Oui, he is expected to return at any time now, but my chambermaid Rosalie has need of," she hesitated, and her cheeks flushed crimson to match the hood that rested against them. She wasn't sure how to bring up such a topic with the young man. Another woman would have understood immediately, but men knew little of women and child bearing. "I am sent to fetch Madame Esme."

"There was none other in the household who could go? I am sure your father will have them for breakfast when he discovers that you were allowed out in the middle of a snow storm at night to fetch someone who lives half a league through the forest." His voice was laced with concern.

"No, the only other person in the household at the moment is too aged to make the journey, so the task fell to me," she confessed.

"Well, then by all means, allow me to escort you the rest of the way there." He offered his arm, and she took it.

"Merci. I hope this isn't too far out of your way, monsieur." She held the lamp up to light the way as the two of them began down the dirt path. The company of the young man made all the difference for Isabelle. Her heart thrummed for an entirely different reason than before.

"In fact, it is on my way home." He smiled.

"Home? Deeper into the woods is your way home?" She looked up at him, her attention drawn away from the path by his odd reply. The only person who lived in the woods here was Madame Esme, and she had lived alone for going on 16 years now, since the death of her husband and son.

"Oui, there is a reason we have not met before now."

She stumbled when he turned his gaze towards her face and their eyes locked. Her foot caught on an errant root, and he caught her in his arms before she could tumble to the ground. For the moment, their faces were merely inches apart, and she could feel his warm breath on her neck. His strong arms wrapped around her waist, supporting most of her weight rather effortlessly.

"Be careful, the path is not smooth." He warned her, moving as if to help her to her feet again, but something stopped him. He lingered a moment longer in this position. Isabelle forgot the cold, forgot the wind and the darkness that surrounded them. For the time being, she was lost in his eyes. At first, they'd appeared to be the same deep brown as her own, but now she saw that they were flecked with gold. She could feel that his heart thrummed to match her own, and despite the fact that it was as cold a spring night as any she could recall, his skin was hot to the touch, almost as if he burned with a fever.

He moved slightly closer until she could feel his lips brush against her collarbone. The sensation of it drove her heart almost to bursting. He moved them both so that she was standing on her own two feet at his right so quickly that she wondered if she'd imagined the last moment.

"Everything alright?" He checked her skirts for rips or tears before rising. Isabelle was at a loss for words, simply staring distracted at him.

"Cat got your tongue?" he laughed. "Are you fine to walk again, Isabelle?"

She had no idea why the familiarity in that should cause her literal pain in her chest. She'd never had an experience like this before. The men she'd come in contact with before now were compatriots of her father's or servants in the castle. None of them were anything near her own age, save a few cousins who visited from time to time. Something about him drew her in, like a moth to a flame.

It took her a moment to find her voice again. "Fine… I'm fine." She straightened herself out, arranging her dress and cloak around her. "Merci. Once more, I am in your debt. You have been my savior tonight, monsieur."

"Jacob, please call me Jacob." He offered her his arm again, and she took it, careful to measure her breaths in a fruitless attempt to temper her raging heart.

"Well then, Jacob. I am in your debt." She stepped gingerly, picking her path with care. She wasn't sure if she could take another incident like the last without fainting dead away.

"No," he replied charmingly. "It has been worth any trouble you might have caused to merely spend the time in the company of a young lady as enchanting as yourself, besides we are nearly at your destination." He gestured ahead, and she could make out the lights of a cottage ahead on the path. Another few minutes, and they would be at the front door.

"I'm afraid I have to take my leave here." He stopped, bowing low again. "It has been nice meeting you for the first time, Isabelle. I'm sure it shan't be the last." He backed away into the darkness and disappeared between two trees at the edge of the path.

"Jacob?" she called, searching for him with the lantern. "Where are you?" She was dismayed by his exit, and it was more than just her fear at being alone on the path again.

"Just walk straight ahead, Isabelle. Madame Esme is home; her lights are burning, and she is expecting you." His voice rang out from behind her, and she spun around.

"I can't see you…" She felt like a lost child abandoned by her protector in the night.

"I can see you, though. I promise no harm shall come to you in these woods. Now go." His voice urged her forward towards the promised warmth of the cottage, and she hurried down the path to escape the chill without looking back again. A pair of yellow eyes gleamed from the darkness behind her, waiting and watching until she stood at the front door of the small house before bounding off into the distance.

-x-x-x-

**A/N: Tell me how I did. **

**Special thanks to my pre-readers: loss4words, kennedymommy3 and ThatPanicGirlE**

**By the way, the whole gold flecks thing has nothing to do with vampires. There are no vampires in this story. *gasp***


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks to loss4words for being my beta reader. (Yeah, I have a beta reader. What about it?) And to kennedymommy4 and ThatPanicGirlE for prereading this chapter for me. **

**This is from the wolf's POV. It's short but sweet. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The rest of this stuff comes from me getting too little sleep and drinking too much coffee. **

-x-x-x-

"First, grant me my sense of history:

I did it for posterity,

for kindergarten teachers

and a clear moral:

Little girls shouldn't wander off

in search of strange flowers,

and they mustn't speak to strangers.

And then grant me my generous sense of plot:

Couldn't I have gobbled her up

right there in the jungle?

Why did I ask her where her grandma lived?

As if I, a forest-dweller,

didn't know of the cottage

under the three oak trees

and the old woman lived there

all alone?

As if I couldn't have swallowed her years before?"

~From The Wolf's Postscript to 'Little Red Riding Hood' by Agha Sahid Ali

-x-x-x-

He watched her closely as she took off towards the tiny cottage at a speed normally reserved for small animals fleeing a predator. Perhaps that's exactly what she was, although he had more interest in her living than dead.

Tonight, it would have been so simple to pluck her from the path, just another disappearance among so many others. The girl really had no business being so far from home on such a wild night. Any number of the denizens of the village would have gladly taken over the task for her, but he saw the yearning for freedom that burned behind her eyes. Living so sheltered a life that you didn't even know all the residents of such a tiny place as Cygne had to be trying for anyone with so sharp a mind as the girl had.

It was evident that she had been sheltered for most of her life. She was so trusting, so innocent, the ultimate forbidden fruit in nearly every way conceivable. It made her so much more appealing.

He was tempted to follow her up to the edge of the midwife's property, but he didn't dare. Madame Esme would have known he was there immediately. In fact, this was as close as he dared to go without an apparent cause.

The midwife knew of his frequent proximity to her cottage, but it was always with the excuse of hunting small game, which she tolerated. His stalking her once foster daughter would not be looked on with the same approving eye. So, he merely watched and waited.

Being so close to her in the darkness had been mind boggling. He could smell the fear on her breath, growing stronger as the night closed in around her and the village grew more and more distant. Her heart had fluttered wildly in her chest until she discovered the source of the voice that rang out to greet her.

The smell of her fear had slowly disappeared and was replaced with one impossibly more enticing, lust. Even in her innocent state, her body had responded in a purely physical manner to an attractive young man. It amused him and pulled him even more tightly into the web she unconsciously wove around him.

He stayed behind her until the last possible moment, when the danger of the cottage door being opened and him being discovered grew too great to risk. Even then, he watched from the shelter of the forest until she disappeared inside. Something kept him near the house once she was gone. He knew there would be no way to follow her once she was accompanied by Madame Esme, but he couldn't make himself leave.

Who knew such a naïve little girl could be so dangerous? It seemed the wolf had met his match dressed in a red cape and hood and lingering along the path alone in the night.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**A/N: A few of the details about midwives were taken from some other books I have read: The Red Tent by Anita Diamant and the Mists of Avalon series by Marion Zimmer Bradley. Both of them are very good reads. I have no real experience with midwives other than what I learned in my women's studies Biology of Women class in college. I made an A in that class by the way *bragging* Actually, it left me considering becoming a professional midwife when I finished college. Sometimes, I still think it would be a cool thing to do **

**Big thanks to pre-readers kennedymommy3 and ThatPanicGirlE and to loss4words81 for allowing me to draft her as my beta-reader.**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The rest of this is just me playing pretend.**

-x-x-x-  
'And I know things now,  
Many valuable things,  
That I hadn't known before:  
Do not put your faith  
In a cape and a hood,  
They will not protect you  
The way that they should.  
And take extra care with strangers,  
Even flowers have their dangers.  
And though scary is exciting,  
Nice is different than good.'

-From "I Know Things Now," _Into the Woods_ by Stephen Sondheim

-x-x-x-

Isabelle was shocked to find the midwife ready and waiting for her when she knocked on the cottage door. Apparently, something had caused her to expect a visit from the young lady tonight, although exactly what was still uncertain. She was currently bustling around the small space gathering a few needed supplies into the basket she had slung over her forearm.

Isabelle had seen Madame Esme around the village on a few occasions, but had never actually met the strange woman before. Perhaps she just seemed strange to Isabelle after the goings on of the evening. Isabelle had never been so far away from home in all her recollection. She knew she had spent much time in this house as an infant, and she half expected some of these memories of her babyhood to come flooding back to her in the presence of her one time foster mother. She was disappointed when it seemed as foreign to her as any other house might have in a similar situation. However, Madame Esme knew her at once.

"Isabelle," she smiled warmly as she opened the door to the cottage. "Come in child. You must be freezing out there on such a wild night. Let me guess. Rosalie's child is coming, ne c'est pas?"

Isabelle could do no more than nod shyly.

"Of course, chere. I suspected as much judging by the phase of the moon and the gravity of her belly when I was last in the village. If not tonight, then most definitely tomorrow." She paced the room picking up small bundles of herbs that had been laid out to dry on the side table in the kitchen. Isabelle recognized none of them, but watched closely as the woman dropped them into the basket along with an amphora of oil and a couple of hollow reeds.

She didn't want to be impolite, but Isabelle's curiosity got the better of her. "Pardon me, madame, but what are the reeds for?"

"You've never been present at a childbirth, have you my dear?" Madame Esme never slowed down her pace, but spoke without much effort.

"No, madame." Isabelle looked down at the roughly hewn boards of the floor, ashamed of her own ignorance.

"It's understandable, child. You have no surviving mother or sisters who might need your presence and the only servant of childbearing age in the castle is young Rosalie. It stands to reason that this would be your first birth, but it shall not be your last," the older woman answered her cryptically. Isabelle felt the need to probe for an explanation, but she wasn't certain she would get one. Instead, she merely watched and waited as the woman finished filling the basket with supplies and grabbed her black cloak, drawing the tie securely around her neck.

"Are you ready to leave now?" The woman looked at her inquisitively, raising an eyebrow with the question.

"Yes, madame." Isabelle grabbed the lantern from the table where she had left it sitting once she entered the cottage and arranged her crimson cloak around her.

"You remind me so much of your mother, girl. That cloak was hers, of course you already know that, but you look so much like she did at your age. Sweet faced and innocent as a lamb." Madame Esme smiled at her, taking her chin in one rough hand and lifting her face to the light. "But there is some fire behind those eyes, I see. Your papa is going to meet some trouble with you, ma chere. Let us go. Rosalie will have need of me before long."

The two women swept out into the night, shutting and latching the door behind them and hurrying down the path towards the village. The journey seemed much shorter to Isabelle the second time around.

Perhaps it was because she had company. Although, it seemed that she'd had company the first time as well for at least part of the journey. The thought of the young man who had escorted her for the longest few minutes of her life brought a blush to her cheek, and she was thankful for the darkness and shelter of the hood to hide it from Madame Esme.

Most likely, it was because the path was now familiar to her, and she had stopped searching for hidden monsters peering at her out of the darkness. She scolded herself for being so childish the first time. Wild animals were a real enough danger, but they rarely attacked unless starved or provoked. No one had been lost in the village since Emmett had been mauled six months prior, and he was a hunter. It was likely a wounded animal that had fought back, leading to the young man's end.

The path seemed brighter, as if the moon had come out of hiding, and the two women didn't really need the lantern to pick out a safe passage to the castle. They arrived just in the nick of time. The crown of the baby's head was visible as the two of them rushed into the bedchambers to the sight of a panting, sweat-drenched young woman in obvious distress.

"It's alright, dear," Madame Esme cooed as she hurried to the girl's side. "Things are proceeding well, and the baby appears to be fine. Just listen to me, and we will do this together." She brushed the blonde locks from Rosalie's face and neck, patting them down with a cloth that lay on the bedside table and turned to face Isabelle and the cook. "Water, I need a pot of boiled water and some clean rags."

Isabelle and Cook left the room quickly, making a beeline for the kitchens. Cook went straight to the fireside, pulling an already steaming kettle of water up by the handle using her apron. She gestured to a closet at the far end of the room. "You can find some rags there, mademoiselle."

Isabelle opened the door and grabbed several rags. In her haste to rejoin her friend, she passed the cook, who was panting as she heaved herself up the stairs. She reentered the room just in time to see the baby's head emerge from Rosalie and nearly fainted dead with the shock of it.

Madame Esme called out to her, "Don't faint, Isabelle. If you do, you shall simply have to lie there until I am finished here." She laughed, and Isabelle realized what she said was true. The midwife wouldn't be able to leave her friend's side for even a moment, so the best thing she could do was take a few deep breaths and compose herself.

By the time she had gathered her wits again, the cook burst through the chamber door with the water.

"Quick. Isabelle, soak some of those rags in the warm water and leave some of them dry. I need you to bring them to me when you have finished."

Isabelle did as she was told and quickly brought them to the midwife who leaned down to whisper softly in her ear. "I do not mean to frighten you my child, but the baby isn't breathing. We shall have to work quickly if we are to save this little one. Comprenez-vous?"

Isabelle glanced up at Rosalie's pained expression and nodded softly. "Just tell me what you need me to do, madame? I would do whatever I could to help her through this."

"I know, pet. Go over to my basket. I need the reeds and oil I brought from my cottage, quickly." The midwife's hands were occupied, but Isabelle remembered where she had laid the basket when they came in the room. She grabbed it, bringing the whole thing over to the bedside and rummaging through it until her hands fell upon the long cylindrical stalks of the reeds. She pulled one free of its bindings and placed it on her lap as she searched for the vial containing the oil. It didn't take long before she felt her hand brush against the cool glass and she drew it free of the tangle of clutter that filled the container. Without speaking, so that Rosalie wouldn't be panicked, she handed them over to the midwife.

In the meantime, Rosalie's contractions had continued, and Madame Esme had encouraged her to keep pushing to free the child from her womb. The baby was nearly free from the mother. "One more time, Rosalie, that's a good girl. Nearly finished now." Her voice was soothing and comforting, just the thing that an expectant, nervous mother who was in pain needed to hear.

And with those words and one final groan from Rosalie, Madame Esme pulled the baby free and laid it on the dry rags she had spread out on the floor in front of her. She worked quickly, and Isabelle waited for instructions.

"String and shears."

Isabelle quickly riffled through the basked and produced each item as she was asked for it. She watched as two pieces of string were tied around the cord that connected mother to baby and the cord was neatly snipped between the two knots.

"Now the reeds."

Isabelle handed them over, and Madame Esme deftly inserted them into the baby's mouth, gently sucking and clearing the liquid from the nose and throat of the baby, who was obviously a boy. She then massaged the boy's stomach and chest gently but vigorously. The sound of liquid gurgling in his mouth hit her ears and Madame Esme turned him over, holding him slightly off the ground with one hand while the other patted and thumped his back soundly. There was a sputtering cough and the room filled with the most beautiful sound that Isabelle had ever heard – the cry of a newborn baby boy.

Madame Esme took the warm, wet rags and cleaned the baby from head to foot, allowing Isabelle to help and speed the process. It was clear from the desperate look in Rosalie's eye that she wanted her baby as quickly as possible. Isabelle wrapped him in a warm cloth and carried him to his mother.

"It's a boy, Rosalie. What shall you call him?" Isabelle asked softly.

"Emmett. After his father." Rosalie locked eyes with her son and began stroking his cheek with the index finger of her right hand.

"It's a lovely name, and he will most certainly live up to it." Isabelle planted a kiss on the forehead of both mother and son and walked away from the bed, feeling as if she were intruding on a very private moment.

She bowed low before the midwife, impressed by her skill and knowledge. "Madame it is very late, and I could not send you out into the cold at such an hour as this after all that you have done for us here. Please, allow me to let you stay with us tonight. It would be an honor and a pleasure to have someone such as yourself be our guest for at least this once."

Madame Esme smiled and returned the bow graciously. "I accept."

So it came that Madame Esme was at the castle in the morning when the Marquis returned from his trip to Paris with a surprise in store for his only daughter.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**A/N: Have I said how amazed I am that you guys like this story? Let me repeat that again. Thank you, I can't believe you actually like it. **

**Thanks to my beta babe loss4words for finding little things I overlooked and my pre-readers ThatPanicGirlE and kennedymommy3 for reminding me of things that might need a little explanation.**

***Chasseur = hunter**

***Duc = Duke**

***Edouard = Edward (duh)**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The rest of this is just me being weird.**

-x-x-x-

"I can't stand the fierce seduction a moment more —

that thick, dark pelt of sable hair and scarlet hood

hiding the heat of your throbbing pulse

from my ears, eyes and mouth.

I can't bear the torment, the bliss,

the fear of your savage secrets."

-From_ Wolf_ by Carrie Miner

-x-x-x-

Isabelle rose early the next morning despite how late the hour had been when she finally lay her head down the previous night. The sound of hoof beats thundering across the cobblestones of the courtyard roused hear earlier than she wished, but any annoyance at her premature rising was banished by the sound of her father's voice booming in through the window.

"Eric," he called for his groom who had accompanied him to Paris. "Take him to the stables and see that he gets some hot oats. It has been quite a chilled morning, and we rose early."

"Yes, milord," came the reply.

Isabelle was still dressed from the hectic events of last night. She had merely fallen down on the bed, asleep before her head ever hit the pillow. She grabbed a shawl that was draped over the chair and ran her fingers through her hair in the mirror before running down the stairs to greet her Papa. She flew down them like a wild child, her hair untamed and streaming out behind her like a flag, feet bare, stopping only when she reached the cold stones of the foyer.

She heard the sounds of bustling in the courtyard beyond the door, dogs sniffing and scratching to be let in the door, men scurrying about with luggage and horses. It was a sound she was used to. Her Papa took infrequent trips away from Cygne, but every return was just like this – chaotic but familiar. She hesitated for just a moment before throwing the door open.

"Papa!" she called out to him, and he turned from his position in the center of the courtyard. Rather than witnessing the joy she expected in his face, she saw his eyes grow round and his cheeks red. She could sense his anger with her, but she couldn't fathom why he would be upset. He came rushing over to where she stood.

"Isabelle, go upstairs at once and get dressed. Can't you see we have company?" he hissed at her between his teeth.

Isabelle felt her heart fall in her chest. This wasn't the usual greeting she got when her Papa came home from a trip of any length, much less one of such a long duration. She scanned the courtyard, and besides the normal servants and assistants that accompanied her Papa, she saw only one unfamiliar face - a young man in his early twenties. Looking down at her clothes, she found the source of her father's annoyance with her. Her dress was wrinkled and disheveled from being slept in, the laces not even drawn, exposing more of her chest than might have been considered decent. The shawl wrapped around her shoulders was fuzzy and tattered, and her bare feet peeked out from under the hem of the skirt. In all, she imagined that she looked more like a servant than a future Marquise.

"Sorry, Papa." She turned and ascended the stairs shamefacedly, going as quickly as decorum allowed to her chamber. Since Rosalie was confined to her quarters for the time being, Isabelle dressed herself in one of her better dresses, a midnight blue satin gown that she had worn to her cousin's wedding the previous winter.

Sitting down before her mirror, Isabelle attempted to tame her hair into something resembling how a young lady should look. She brushed it carefully, trying to smooth some of the stray locks into place and gathered it into a chignon at the nape of her neck. Carefully pouring some water into the basin atop her dressing table, she cleaned her hands and forearms along with her face, being sure to scrub any debris that might have remained under her fingernails.

Isabelle examined her face in the mirror carefully, dismayed at the dark circles under her eyes. Her face was pale from lack of sleep which made the rings under her eyelids that much more prominent. The thought struck her that she had not been introduced to the young man. His bright green eyes had pierced hers. He was handsome, clean-shaven with a strong jaw line and auburn hair that tumbled about his ears.

She thought she'd been introduced to all her father's close friends and associates, but she supposed she must be wrong. Sighing at her reflection, she settled that her appearance would just have to do for there was little she could do about her complexion at the moment. A pair of white stockings and brown leather shoes completed her transformation, and she hurried back down the stairs to greet her father and his guest properly.

When she reached the courtyard, they were gone. She stopped Guilliame on his way between the stables and one of the outbuildings. "Where is Papa?"

"He's taken the young man up to his study, mademoiselle. He asked me to have you join him there as soon as you came down."

"Merci, Guilliame. Who is the young man?" She felt comfortable asking Guilliame because she knew he wouldn't report her inquisitiveness to Papa. Eric on the other hand, she kept a wary eye out for him. He was always ready to tattle whenever she set the slightest foot out of line.

Not that that the Marquis was cruel to his daughter. She was in fact quite spoiled for the average daughter and got her own way most of the time. However, the Marquis was very strict in matters of decorum, especially so when guests were at the castle.

Guilliame looked around to ensure that Eric was nowhere in sight. "I do not know, milady, but the two of them seemed to have some important business to discuss. They were in a hurry to get to the study."

"Well, I supposed I'd best not keep them waiting then. Au revoir." She waved goodbye to the older man and hurried back up the staircase towards her father's study. It was on the same floor as her chambers, but much further down the corridor. She would pass Rosalie's quarters on the way, but there would be no time to stop and check in on the young mother and her son. She supposed that Madame Esme would be about soon to make sure all was well with the pair.

She rapped gently at the door, hoping that they would hear her without having to make too much noise. She was pleased when the door opened a few moments later to reveal her father's smiling face.

"Much better, my dear. Please excuse my demeanor earlier. I've been informed by Cook that you had quite the evening last night." He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Yes, sir." She smiled up at her father before dropping a quick curtsey to the young man who stood next to her father's desk.

"Oh, pardon me," her father noticed her glance inquisitive at their guest. "I've not yet introduced the two of you. Isabelle, this is the Duc du Chasseur. He'll be staying with us for awhile."

The young man crossed the study with a steady stride, taking her hand in his own and planting a chaste kiss on her skin there before bowing. "Enchanted, mademoiselle."

"Merci, Duc." She curtsied again, a little more deeply this time in deference for his rank.

"Please mademoiselle, call me Edouard." He smiled brightly at her, and despite his handsome appearance, something in the smile struck her wrong. It was so much more predatory than a regular smile, like he wanted to eat her for breakfast rather than just be friendly.

She shook her head, clearing the strange thoughts from her imagination. There was nothing obviously unfriendly or aggressive in Edouard's demeanor, and Isabelle decided that is must be her lack of sleep driving her to distraction.

"By all means, you may call me Isabelle." In all honest, the Duc had the privilege of addressing her by her first name without her permission, but it seemed best to extend the same courtesy to him that he had shown her. Her Papa seemed to be careful to extend some pains to keep Edouard happy, and Isabelle decided that it would be best to go along with her father's wishes for the moment.

She turned to her Papa in the awkward silence that ensued. "Can I get anything for the two of you, Papa?"

He smiled, "No, Isabelle, but if the Duc will excuse us, there is a matter that I would like to discuss with you." He nodded to Edouard and walked to the corner pulling down on a velvet cord that hung from the ceiling. The cord was attached to a system of ropes that would ring a bell down in the kitchens and summon one of the servants to his study. "Someone will see you to your rooms."

Edouard smiled, knowingly. "Of course, Charles. I'll be waiting on your answer regarding that engagement we spoke of."

There was a sharp knock at the door, and the Marquis opened it, allowing Eric to enter the room. "You rang, milord?"

"Yes. Eric see that the Duc is settled into the rooms that have been prepared for him, and if there is anything he needs or desires, it is to be brought to him at once."

"Of course. Would you please come with me, monsieur Duc? I have seen that your luggage has been taken to the bedchamber already." Eric gestured towards the door, allowing Edouard to leave the room first and following closely behind.

The Marquis waited until he was certain they were out of hearing range to begin speaking to his daughter. "Isabelle, you know you are well past the age that most girls are married, but I haven't had it in my heart to let you go. You remind me so of your mother; she was your age when our first daughter was born."

Isabelle felt her heart rising into her throat and was unable to respond to her father, even though she immediately understood where this conversation was going. The man who had just walked out of the room was likely the man she was going to have to watch walking out of rooms for the remainder of her life. She twisted her fingers together nervously, allowing her father to continue uninterrupted.

"I think I have finally found a suitable match for you in this Duc, dear child. You know I could not part with you with anyone unworthy of your beauty and kindness. It breaks my heart to do so even now." He looked at her face carefully, trying to read her expression. "Tell me child, what think you of this?"

"I..." she hesitated, weighing her words carefully. "I love you, Papa, and I trust you to do what is best for me. I should like to get to know him better before I make a final decision."

"I think you misunderstand me, Isabelle. The decision has already been made; the Duc and I signed an official betrothal contract while in Paris. It was the reason I traveled there so early in the season. Your engagement is to be formally announced in a month's time. I simply brought him here that you might not go into this unprepared and unaware of your future husband's demeanor."

"But, Papa, I barely know him!" Her voice was raised with panic, and she backed away from him until her back was against a wall. "What if he is unkind to me? And I shall miss you so much." She spoke quickly, babbling like a flooded brook.

"Isabelle, lower your voice and calm down. I have worked this arrangement out with his mother; the Duchess Elizabet assures me that he is a gentle young man, and they have been family friends for a long time. His father was in attendance at my own wedding." He walked forward taking her in his arms, and smoothing the ruffled fabric of her dress across her back. "It's alright, my dear. This has been coming for a long time now. We both knew that, and you will grow used to young Edouard in time. He will be here with us until the engagement is announced at the ball we have planned in April. Until then, you are welcome to get to know him as much as he will allow. Just remember that I'd never even met your Maman until our wedding day, and I loved her more than life itself until the day she left us."

She could hear the sadness in his voice and immediately regretted her reaction. She was strong minded at times, but she never wished to cause her father sorrow, even though she did so unintentionally from time to time. Isabelle took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves and soothe her fears. "Please forgive me, Papa. I didn't mean to..."

"Don't fret, child. I know that it's a frightening thing to have to leave home after all these years, but I swear to you that I mean only the best for you. You are getting too old to remain here with me and ever have the prospect of marrying well."

"I understand." She felt something going numb inside of her, something that she hadn't even known was there until the night before, as she settled her mind on being an obedient daughter for once in her life and complying with her father's wishes. "I will do as you say Papa. Please excuse me, I would like to go and check on Rosalie and the baby if you don't mind."

"Of course. I understand that Madame Esme is still in the castle?" He appeared extrememly interested in the presence of the midwife in the castle.

"Oui, she stayed in Rosalie's chambers last night to see that everything went well after her ordeal," Isabelle explained.

"Would you tell her I should like to see her when she has a moment?" The tone of command he usually reserved for commanding underlings was gone. He spoke of the woman more as an equal than as a peasant from the village.

"Oui, Papa. I shall." She curtsied lightly and took her leave of her father.

As Isabelle hurried down the corridor, her heart and mind buzzing with the news her father had just delievered so suddenly, another occupant of the castle was studying his reflection carefully in the mirror and blessing his luck to be paired up with such an uncommonly beautiful young girl. When his mother had informed him that he was expected to marry the daughter of an old family friend, Edouard had shirked, especially so when he found out she was already seventeen and still unmarried. In his mind, she was hairlipped with a humpback. Imagine his surprise when the girl had flown into the courtyard like a wild rabbit this morning. Even in her unkempt state she was breathtaking; in fact there was something all the more intoxicating about her because of it.

He was going to quite enjoy breaking her spirit. He could see it burning from behind her eyes, the flame of individuality and stubbornness. He supposed it came from being an only child, the apple of her father's eye for her entire life. Oh, she would learn obedience in the end, even if it killed her.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**A/N: Special thanks as always to ThatPanicGirlE and kennedymommy3 for pre-reading my chapters and letting me know if it's presentable and to loss4words for making sure that I don't end a chapter with a comma.**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The rest of this is a product of snow days and alcohol.**

-x-x-x-

"But remember, when returning through the forest,

Kept warm against the night by a cloak

Of the wolf's pelt:

The hunter is also a wolf."

From _What Her Mother Said_ by Theodora Goss

-x-x-x-

Isabelle hurried down the corridor towards Rosalie's door, her hair coming undone in her haste and creating a halo of feathery curls around her face. She didn't have the strength to hold back the tears anymore; she didn't even try, and they flowed freely down her cheeks. She paused for a moment to swipe them away with the back of her hand when she reached her destination, ashamed of her reaction to what should have been a happy occasion. Instead of the joy she had anticipated would come with such an announcement, her heart was filled with fear.

After she thought she had gathered the broken shards of herself into an Isabelle shaped package, she knocked gently at the door.

"You may enter," a familiar voice called from within, and Isabelle opened the door and closed it behind her as gently as possible to avoid disturbing little Emmett. When she turned around, the look on the faces of the two other women in the room spoke volumes about her true demeanor.

"What's wrong?" Esme and Rosalie spoke at once, the words mingling together into one concordant voice. Isabelle couldn't find the words to answer them; she was instead overcome with sobs that racked her entire frame, falling to her knees on the cold stone floor.

Madame Esme rushed to her side, wrapping one arm around her gently and supporting her from collapsing completely.

"Chere, you must tell us what has happened. Is your father alright? Are you sick or hurt?" The midwife examined her body for visible injuries, finding none, while Isabelle continued to weep. She tried to stop herself, but something inside her was broken that she wasn't sure would ever be fixed again.

After a few moments more of crying, she was able to manage squeaking out a quiet, "I'm engaged," before burying her face in her hands again.

"Engaged? To whom?" Rosalie inquired from her place in the bed, baby Emmett snuggled up against her side in the crook of her arm. Her face had aged beautifully in the past day from the face of a worried young girl to that of a young woman.

Isabelle looked up at her, once again ashamed at her reaction to the situation. She had nothing to feel so sad about compared to the waking nightmare that Rosalie had lived through during the past six months. "I'm sorry," she breathed deeply. "I should not be carrying on so over something so simple. I was shocked by the suddenness of the news. Please give me a moment."

She breathed deeply and lifted herself up from the floor with a little assistance from Esme. After a moment's pause she continued, "Papa, has arrived home with the son of an old family friend and told me that we are to be married." She managed a weak smile. "I don't know him well, but the engagement is not to be formally announced for a month. I suppose that's plenty of time to learn the character of a young man."

"Oh Isabelle, I'm sorry." Rosalie sat up in the bed, concern written clearly across her face. "You don't know him at all?"

"We've only just met this morning. I…"

Isabelle was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Who's there?" Rosalie called from the bed.

"Eric, I've something for the mademoiselle, and the Marquis told me she might be found here." The voice was muffled by the heavy wooden beams of the door, but it was unmistakably Eric's.

"I'm here, Eric," she replied, looking to Rosalie who nodded her approval to open the door. Esme was closer, so she admitted Eric who was followed closely by a raven haired young girl with close cropped hair that sat in spikes around her angelic face. Isabelle breathed in sharply at her appearance.

Eric bowed slightly, never taking his eyes from Isabelle's face. "Mademoiselle, the Duc sends you a gift." He gestured to the young woman behind him. "He begs that you accept this girl as your maidservant. The girl kept her eyes cast down to the floor and her hands clenched tightly at her sides as though expecting violence at any moment. It was then that Bella saw the scarred skin that lay exposed across the part of her palm not covered by her white-knuckled fingers.

Isabelle quickly pulled her attention away to dismiss Eric, "Tell the Duc that I accept his gift with thanks."

Eric dipped again and backed out of the room, leaving the women alone. Isabelle approached the girl slowly. "What is your name?"

The girl replied, "Alice," simply without ever looking up.

"Your hair…" Isabelle began, but was interrupted.

"Pardon moi, mademoiselle. My hair was shaved some months ago and has not grown back." She glanced up slightly at this, exposing brilliantly colored blue eyes.

"Shaved? But why? I'm certain it must have been quite beautiful. The color is so unique." Isabelle reached out to touch her shoulder, and the girl flinched away at the contact.

Esme stopped Isabelle, going to Alice's side. "It's alright, my dear. No one has been tried in Cygne as a witch for decades. The Marquis will not allow it. Young Isabelle knows nothing of the practices of the inquisitors."

Esme reached down, taking the girl's hands in her own and tracing the scars that lined the palms. "Trial by fire, I see."

Alice nodded, taking her lower lip between her teeth nervously. Madame Esme wrapped her in a warm embrace. "Fear not, child." At once, the girl broke into tears.

**A/N: Alice is what we might typically consider a slave, and Edouard has made her a gift to Isabelle in an attempt to win her over. It was common practice for a supposed witch to be shaved all over to search for a witch's mark. It was also common for the accused to be forced to walk nine yards holding a red hot bar of iron. If the wounds healed, the person was determined to be innocent. If they became infested, they were said to be guilty.**


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks to kennedymommy3 and ThatPanicGirlE, the best friends and pre-readers ever in existence and to loss4words for being excited to actually edit my stuff. You guys make me happy. Much to my surprise this little story I dreamed up during a long shower has been rec'd on two different blogs this week Phase Fics and Misfics by PavartiDevi and Wolf H00r. You two are awesome; thanks so much for reading and pimping my stuff. **

**And finally, this story has been nominated for two Hidden Star awards back when it was only about 6 chapters in. I'm flattered and honored, and I send special thanks to whoever sent in the nomination.**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The other stuff is the stuff of dreams.**

-x-x-x-

"The daughter is too bold

to be anything but

a cuckoo in the nest.

Good girls sit home

and sew in the dark.

They don't go seeking fire

in the witch's woods."

- From _Bone Mother_ by Holly Black

-x-x-x-

Esme cchecked her reflection carefully, smoothing the stray strands of hair before heading out of Rosalie's chambers into the corridor. Isabelle had left, deciding to take a walk to calm her frazzled nerves before making an attempt to get to know her suitor better. It had shaken her that he thought she would appreciate the gift of a person. The servants in her home were all paid and free to come and go as they pleased.

Esme had waited for Isabelle to leave before questioning the girl that had accompanied Eric into the room. Young Alice had been indentured to the Duc in exchange for her life. The accusations of witchcraft had disappeared like magic when she'd signed her body over to him, but since that time she had been ill used. The girl had visions, and her family had handed her gladly over to the Inquisitors to be rid of the strange thing. They believed her to be the very Devil himself in the form of a tiny girl living in their midst.

The Duc's younger brother had taken to her after seeing her around the village, pursued her unsuccessfully for months, and when he found that she had been taken, it was only a matter of time until he persuaded his brother to begin making inquiries about her situation. Esme was certain that it hadn't even taken a very large bribe to get the Inquisitors to hand her over, most trials could be stopped cold with the flash of a little gold from a family member or taken up to a fever pitch with an offer from an enemy. The true evidence of witchcraft was most commonly decided by whomever had the most money to offer.

When she came to live with the Duc's family, they'd treated her just as badly as the Inquisitors had. Fortunately, the Lord Alec had tired of her rather quickly, finding himself more amused by his new horse than an unwilling slave girl. Alice had been both relieved and nervous to discover that she would have a new home with the fiancée of the Duc. It had taken much persuasion by both Rosalie and Esme to convince her that her life had now taken a turn for the better.

Alice had imagined Isabelle would be much like the Lady Jane, the Duc's rather spoiled younger sister, who was quite fond of inflicting pain on the girl in any small way possible – pinching, hair pulling, teasing. Even that was preferable to the manner in which she had been kept before, locked in a windowless room for days on end, fed from whatever scraps of food remained on the plates of her captors.

Esme pitied the girl who had never known love or kindness in all her years. She had just been another mouth to feed amongst her parents' ever growing brood, and her visions had disturbed and angered them. Her own father had accused her of dealing with the Devil. Esme couldn't help but think that she would have traded her soul for something better than the miserable existence that Alice had been forced to live until now.

Her musings led her quickly to the study, and she'd arrived at the door before she'd realized. Esme needed no guide to show her the way. She'd knocked at this door more times than she'd cared to, bringing both joyful and sorrowful news. She had personally carried the crying infant Isabelle and laid her in her father's arms along with the news of the death of the Marquise. That combined burden had been a heavy one to bear.

She steadied herself to see the Marquis again after a nearly 16 year span. It seemed odd to her that they had never chanced a meeting on her voyages into the village, but in truth, she came here so rarely now that it might not have been that strange after all. Charles was often away for business or otherwise occupied with the affairs of running the village, and Esme often dealt with matters that concerned only the women of the households of the village.

It only took a moment after her knock for the door to swing open, revealing a face familiar in its form but more weathered and worn than she recalled. She wondered if she looked the same to him, if he even remembered her face from so long ago.

"Madame Esme." He sounded both surprised and happy at once to see her unannounced. "Please come in." He opened the door wide, providing Esme with a view of the study, unchanged after all this time.

"I see you still use this room as a personal sanctuary." She looked around. The room was cozy, a large dog curled up on a rug in front of the roaring fire. Piles of books lay scattered around the room next to chairs and tables where he'd left them lying after late nights spent reading.

"Of course, even though there's not much to get away from in such a sleepy little place. I trust you are well, Madame?" he inquired.

"Madame? We are that formal now, are we Charles? You may call me Esme, and yes, I am well." She laughed at his propriety. There had been a time when the two of them had been on a first name basis.

"Glad to hear it," he chuckled. "And I see you are as fiery as ever, as well. How is our Rosalie?"

"She is well, and the baby is a healthy boy. She has named him after his father," Esme sighed.

"Her mother will be pleased to hear about it. She is resting?"

"Of course, and how is it with you Charles?" Their banter was friendly, like two old friends who hadn't seen each other for some time.

"I fear I am getting old. My last daughter is full grown, and I am weary," he replied.

"I suppose that comes to us all at one point or another. I have come to speak to you on the matter of that self-same daughter. Is it true that you have promised her hand to the Duc du Chasseur."

"Oui, what matter is it? He is of an old family, well thought of in most Parisian circles."

"Do you know of the gift he brought for Isabelle, then?" She looked at him carefully, studying his reaction. His brows knitted together for a moment as he considered her question.

"You mean the young serving girl? I thought it fitting since Rosalie will be unable to perform her duties for some time yet and will probably not be willing to travel so far from her family after the marriage. What of it?" He looked at her, attempting to fathom her reason for questioning him in such a manner.

"Did you not look at her Charles? The scars on her hands, her hair, her body is barely more than skin and bones." Esme could feel the tenor of her voice rising.

"What are you implying, Madame?" His voice took on a protected tone, as if she were implying something about his own character by questioning that of his future son-in-law.

"Just that the girl was not well treated, was tortured, in point of fact. The Duc purchased her as a plaything for his younger brother from under the thumb of the Inquisitors," Esme stated things matter of factly.

"Esme, I'm certain that she suffered no harm at the hands of the Duc or his family. I have known them for such a long time. The Inquisitors on the other hand…" his voice wavered for a moment. "The Duc must have done her quite a mercy in purchasing her from them. Even life as a servant must be preferable to death and torture at the hands of those …" He looked away, unable to continue his speech.

"Are you certain you know them as well as you believe?" Esme walked over to where he stood, placing one hand on his elbow gently. "Well enough to place the life of your only child in their hands? For that is what you are doing, Charles. I may have no right to question your decision, but I held the child at my breast for twelve months. It would break my heart to see her unhappy in marriage."

"There is little I can do about it now. I have already signed the marriage contract in Paris. All that remains is the formality of a ceremony, and unless I am provided with evidence to the contrary, my faith in them will remain steady." There was something about his eyes that looked unsure. He looked away, walking towards the window.

"Well, I hope that you will not be proven wrong, for all our sakes. There is another matter I have come to discuss with you. If you will recall, the two of us have an arrangement to settle."

He turned slowly to look at her. "You've come to collect on our agreement then?"

"Yes, she's mine…" Esme spoke hesitantly, waiting for his reply.

"It's a rather inconvenient time." He looked at her simply, daring her to contradict him.

"I will leave her here with you for the time being. I know she's needed here, but I'm taking her on as my apprentice. By night she will be yours, but by day she belongs to me."

"I cannot believe you are bringing up that old agreement at such a time as this. The girl is about to be married, there is little use in…" Charles began to protest in earnest now, something in him grew panicked at the thought of losing his daughter.

"Charles, you do not want to go back on your word with me. You will live to regret it." The tone of her voice grew threatening, though the volume decreased so that she was barely speaking above a whisper. However, each word was clearly audible through the stillness of the room. Not even the dog dared to disturb their conversation.

"I saved her once for you, and you promised me. Isabelle is the closest thing I have to a daughter of my own. If you want me to be honest, her life truly belongs to me, but all I am asking for is enough time to pass my legacy down to her."

The Marquis looked around him helplessly, "You have your time, but I'm warning you, she's to be wed at the end of May, and she belongs to neither of us past that point."

"Something tells me she belongs to neither of us now." Esme smiled. "That one is too like her father for her own good." Without waiting for a reply, she turned and left the room, closing the door solidly behind her.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

**A/N: I'm still amazed at how many of you like this story and how you keep coming so close to guessing what's coming next. I'm a lucky duck to have such smart readers.**

**Thanks to loss4words for reading through things I wrote while drinking and ThatPanicGirlE and kennedymommy3 for sending me special squees when they pre-read every single chapter. Y'all make me feel like I'm not a total loser for writing fanfiction.**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The other stuff is me being crazy again.**

-x-x-x-

"Sometimes, I explain,

it's hard to tell the difference

between the ones who love you

and the ones who will eat you alive."

-From _Silver and Gold _by Ellen Steiber

-x-x-x-

Isabelle drifted with the wind-blown snow around the grounds of the castle, her mind wandering as aimlessly as her feet. She wavered back and forth in her opinion on the young man who was to be her husband. To be sure, he was decidedly handsome with piercing green eyes that felt like they could see into your soul. On the other hand, the thought of owning another person disturbed her. Even though she'd grown up with servants, all of them were free to come and go as they pleased and were compensated by the Marquis for their services.

She was stunned out of her musings by the warmth of a breath that gently caressed her bare neck just below where her hair rested against it. She froze in place where she stood.

"That color is very becoming on you Isabelle."

One sentence melted her heart like a summer breeze. She smiled and turned to address her new companion with a light in her eyes.

"Bonjour, Jacob. What brings you here this morning?"

"I've come to escort Madame Esme back to her cottage. I thought she might need some assistance with her things, and being the proper young lady I know you to be, I assumed you would offer her lodging after last night's toil." He offered Isabelle his arm, and she took it willingly. "And how does this morning find you mademoiselle?"

She sighed heavily. "Quite conflicted, to be frank."

"In regards to?" He stopped walking and turned to face her. His eyes filled with a mixture of emotions that Isabelle couldn't quite decipher.

She pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders. "Papa returned home early this morning…"

"Was he cross with you about venturing out last evening?" Jacob's eyes softened when he thought he'd determined the cause for her sadness.

"No, I'm not certain he even knows I left the castle." She looked at the ground unsure of how to tell him what was in her heart when even she didn't know what she truly felt about her predicament. Besides, he was a virtual stranger, and here she was conversing with him as if they'd grown up together.

"What is the matter then?" He placed a finger under her chin, tilting her face up towards his own. She stood, locked in place, staring into his eyes. After a moment, she tore her gaze away, leaving little pieces of her heart behind.

"It matters not. There is nothing to be done about it, so I suppose I should go along with Papa's wishes. I know he only wants what is best for me, and it was inevitable that the time would come when I would have to leave him behind. I just never imagined that day would come so soon…" The words came out of her in a rush. She spoke without pausing for breath until Jacob took her shoulders gently in hand.

"Slow down, Isabelle. What is going on?" His eyes were a little wild. He suddenly looked very young and frightened.

"I…" she began but was interrupted by a third voice.

"She's to be married." The two of them had been too distracted to see his approach, so the presence of Edouard made Isabelle's heart jump into her throat. She pulled away from Jacob, noticing the impropriety of their stance in the fire she saw flare up in Edouard's eyes.

He walked to stand next to her, facing Jacob, and lifted her hand to his lips, grazing her knuckles with a whisper of a kiss and threading her arm through his. The touch was foreign to her, so familiar a posture for their first more than cursory contact unnerved her, but he was obviously marking her as his property in front of a perceived rival. "Aren't you going to introduce me, Isabelle?" His tone appeared friendly on the surface, but underneath it was laced with a thinly veiled hostility.

"Jacob this is Edouard, the Duc of Chasseur, my …"

"Fiancé," he interrupted, holding out his free hand for Jacob to shake. It hung there in the air between them for a long moment before Jacob took it in his own and gave it a one firm pump before dropping it again.

"So nice to meet you Jacob. How are you acquainted with my Isabelle?" And there is was, the question she had been dreading. How to explain her familiarity with an acquaintance of only a few hours, even if it felt like centuries.

Before she could come up with a suitable explanation, Jacob volunteered, "We are old friends."

"Yes. I supposed you must have been when I found the two of you talking so… intimately in public."

Isabelle looked around. They were still in the castle grounds, quite close to the wood line, and not another human being was in sight. Edouard's insinuation was bordering on rudeness, and she bit her tongue to keep from replying with a sharp remark.

The truth was that the two of them must have appeared suspiciously fond to any outside observer. Even she had noticed it, but no other touch had ever felt as natural and familiar as Jacob's had. The points of contact between her hand and Edouard's arm, on the other hand, prickled like shards of ice digging into her skin.

The three of them stood there, frozen, until Jacob finally spoke. "I really must be going. Madame Esme will be expecting me." He bowed low. "It was a pleasure to see you again, Isabelle." He turned slightly, nodding. "Monsieur." Then he left without another word, picking out a path towards the front of the castle.

Edouard waited until he was out of sight before releasing Isabelle's arm. "Is there something you need to tell me?" he asked her coldly.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're referring to." She sounded indignant at his implication.

"You know exactly what I am referring to." He grabbed her elbow roughly, forcing her to face him. "You should ensure that he knows to whom you rightly belong." Edouard dropped her arm and stalked off towards the castle from whence he had come.

Isabelle stayed in place, the cold wintry wind chilling the tears that spilled unbidden down her reddened cheeks. 


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

**A/N: Because the last chapter was so short I thought I'd share both 9 and 10 at the same time. Enjoy. Thanks to ThatPanicGirleE for the awesome video she made and posted on YouTube for all the world to see. The link is posted on my profile .net/~cereuleanblue. **

**Also thank you to loss4words for letting me know that you should capitalize the first letter of each sentence, and to kennedymommy3 for helping me through the challenge of writing a pairing I wasn't originally a fan of and am now considering switching teams to. **

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The rest of this is just me…**

-x-x-x-

"Who trusted God was love indeed

And love Creation's final law

Tho' Nature, red in tooth and claw

With ravine, shriek'd against his creed"

-From _In Memoriam A.H.H. _by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

-x-x-x-

He watched her weep, fighting every urge in his body to rush out to comfort her. It had taken every bit of strength he possessed not to rush out to tear that pompous bastard who had caused her tears limb from limb.

His eyes grew wide in his fury, and he fought against the animal inside, vehemently. He knew if he changed now there would be little that could stop him from taking a life, so he breathed deeply and focused on the contrast Isabelle's cloak made against the snow, like a rose against the winter frost. Her perfection seemed fragile, but it did not do well to forget that roses have thorns.

He'd seen the anger in her eyes when her fiancé had so rudely confronted her, all but accusing her of impropriety, but he'd also seen the resignation behind them when she pulled away from him guiltily. It seemed that she, like him, was of two natures. One, the good servile young lady society intended for her to be, and the other, something wild and untamed fighting to get free. She struggled against it; he could watch the fight play out in her entire demeanor sometimes.

He longed for the hidden animal within her to win out and overcome the years of training in what it meant to be a proper young woman. She would have been beautiful to behold in her natural state, absolutely stunning. To watch her fight against it, to submit to the will of those around her, was torturous. It was unnatural; she denied her very nature, and it obviously caused her pain.

He continued to watch her as she got her emotions under control, cleaning the last of her tears from her pale, smooth skin with the sleeve of her midnight blue dress. She turned then, quickly as though startled by some unnoticed sound. Her eyes scanned the forest carefully until they found his.

Impossible, he'd thought. The dark should have shielded him from view, but she'd found him again in spite of it.

She took one hesitant step towards him; he backed more deeply into the trees, frightened by the intensity in her stare. She stood still for a moment before shaking her head and heading back towards the palace, leaving him along and shaken in the shadow of the trees.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

**A/N: Thanks to ThatPanicGirlE and kennedymommy3 the two besty bestest pre-readers on URF. And to loss4words for being effing awesome at finding things I misspelled and commas I forgot to include. I've noticed in the reviews that there is a lot of speculation about who Jacob really is and what Bella is going to learn from Esme. Be patient ma cheres, all will be revealed in due time.**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The other parts of this story stem from childhood issues to numerous and disturbing to describe here. ThatPanicGirlE plans on doing her thesis in psychology on my parental issues alone. **

-x-x-x-

"When I grow old, grandmother,

I'll be the one to live alone in the woods

with my herbs and roots and volumes of Rilke,

baskets of yarn and gardening tools,

old love letters tied into bundles,

old red hood in a bottom drawer.

When I grow old, I'll be the one

sunning myself on the front porch step,

listening for fox and lark and owl

and the sound of my granddaughter's voice."

-From _Femmes Sauvage_ by Johnny Clewell

-x-x-x-

Isabelle trod sullenly up to the castle, her heart filled with a mixture of rage and sorrow. The wind whipped around her, and she felt a pair of eyes watching her from the trees. She spun around just in time to see them, glowing yellow out of the darkness. Her curiosity propelled her forward before her sense of self-preservation kicked in and stopped her dead in her tracks. The eyes suddenly disappeared like the flame of a candle in the wind.

Isabelle stared disbelieving for a moment before shaking her head at her own foolishness. It was likely some animal or another feeding near the edge of the trees. She had been foolish enough to approach it, but luckily it was frightened back to its hiding place.

She continued back onto the path towards the castle, half expecting to meet Jacob again on the way, but was disappointed when he was nowhere to be seen. She supposed he must have gone after the scene in the garden; she couldn't blame him and honestly doubted that she would ever see him again.

That thought caused Isabelle a pang of regret and a sense of loss that she couldn't understand. It was like something desirable had been dangled before her face and snatched away before she ever got a good look at it to know if she wanted it or not. All she knew was that the alternative was wholly undesirable but absolutely unavoidable.

She sighed, letting herself in through one of the side doors the servants used to come and go unnoticed through the grounds. Much to her surprise she nearly knocked Madame Esme off her feet.

"Oh, ma chere. I was looking for you. I've some news to share with you." The excitement in her expression made Isabelle forget her worries for the moment.

"What news?" She was genuinely intrigued by the emotion in the older woman's eyes.

"Your father has given permission for you to apprentice under me until your marriage. What say you to that? I'll not drag you into this unwilling but I would be honored to have you to pass my knowledge on to as I have no daughter of my own." Esme looked at her expectantly as Isabelle considered the proposition.

It was no escape from her eventual fate, but it was at least a temporary escape from the presence of Edouard about the castle. She knew that her father was determined for her to get to know her fiancé, but there was little she wanted to know about the boorish young man she was now adhered to for the remainder of her life. Honestly, it would be preferable to be married to one of the peasants from the surrounding village. At least then she wouldn't have to leave her home.

"Would I come live with you?" Isabelle asked, the entire situation sounding better by the second.

"Not at first. You can accomplish much of your training during the daytime hours, but there will be a time after your engagement announcement perhaps, when you will need to be with me day and night. I have promised your father that you will remain in residence here at the castle as long as Edouard is here, but when he leaves, you will reside with me. Do you agree?"

Isabelle nodded yes, emphatically. "Merci, madame. You have no idea what this means to me. I have no desire to spend any time around that man, but I will do as my father wishes."

Esme took her hand gently. "Isabelle, I hate to see you so unhappy. You may not know this, but there was a time when I counted you as my own child. I nursed you through sickness and baby first steps until your weaning. I have missed seeing you grow into the lovely young woman you have become, and I wish for you the best. I have some hope that your situation will improve."

Isabelle looked at her, puzzled. "What hope, madame? I am promised. I fear there is nothing to be done about it other than find a way to be happy without love or freedom." Her face fell as she contemplated the possibilities of her future and found little solace amongst the options that lay before her. If she rebelled, she feared she would be drug into the marriage regardless and incur the wrath of her future husband in the process. Perhaps, if she submitted to both their wills, she could find a freedom within the structure and boundaries he set forth.

"Have faith, child. I must be going soon; I have business to attend to back at my cottage, but I will send for you on the morrow. My helper Jacob will come at the hour of nine…"

Isabelle's heart skipped a beat at the mention of that name. "Jacob? A tall young man with dark hair and eyes?"

"Have you met?" Esme raised her eyebrows, incredulously at her accurate description of an apparent stranger.

"In the woods, on the path to your house last night. He escorted me nearly to your front door, and today he came to help you on your way back home. I fear he has left though. The Duc was rather… impolite to him for speaking to me in the gardens."

Esme sensed something in the girl's tone; there was more to the situation than she was willing to share, but it wasn't the time to try to pry that from her. Time would tell what the truth was. It surprised her that Jacob had been so forward as to introduce himself to a strange girl in the darkness of the wild forest night. He was generally rather reclusive, remaining in the forest as much as possible. Esme wasn't certain what had made him suddenly become so forward.

"Good, then you won't feel uncomfortable walking with a stranger in the morning. Now, I really must be leaving." She took Isabelle in her arms, giving her a quick embrace. The girl felt warm, more than just the warmth from the closeness of another human body, and returned the embrace, planting a quick kiss on Esme's cheek.

In another part of the castle, an exhausted Alice lay sleeping on a chaise at the foot of Isabelle's bed. Her eyes danced behind closed lids as a dream played itself out in her unconscious mind. She flailed about for a moment before sitting upright suddenly, her eyes open wide, gasping, "The wolf…"


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

**A/N: As always thank you to the coolest peeps on Earth loss4words for betaing this monstrosity and kennedymommy3 and ThatPanicGirlE for prereading and pimping the ever-loving hell out of this story. Thanks a lot **

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended. It's not my fault if I do it better than she does…**

-x-x-x-

"Children of the future age,  
Reading this indignant page,  
Know that in a former time  
Love, sweet love, was thought a crime."

-From _Little Girl Lost _by William Blake

-x-x-x-

The conversation over supper that night had been rather interesting once Isabelle's papa had informed the Duc of her situation.

"Milord Duc, I feel it necessary to tell you that young Isabelle is to begin a brief apprenticeship to our local midwife on the morrow. Unfortunately, this will occupy much of her time during the daylight hours, but she will reside at the castle still. Her evenings shall be spent in our company." The Marquis spoke casually as he cut into the piece of roast pork at the center of his plate.

The look on Edouard's face could have frozen flies in midair. His dissatisfaction was readily evident in the manner with which his two eyebrows knit themselves together.

"Charles, midwifery… really? That's not exactly a becoming occupation for someone of Isabelle's station, is it?" Edouard filled his mouth with food, stopping the conversation for a moment.

The Marquis contemplated his response carefully as everyone at the table slowly chewed. Isabelle merely watched, curious about the outcome of the discussion. She had never seen anyone openly disagree with her father before, and the audacity of Edouard's manner floored her. However, the Marquis merely swallowed and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin before responding.

"There is little to be done about it, I am afraid. I gave my word to Madame Esme at her birth. The woman saved her life when no one thought it possible. The least I could do was grant her this one request, especially so because she has no daughter of her own to pass her teaches on to. She loves Isabelle as she would one of her own children had any of them lived and would allow no harm to come to her during their time together."

Isabelle could see the thoughts churning behind Edouard's eyes as he weighed the benefits and possible problems of pressing the issue of his disapproval further. The Marquis had - perhaps purposefully - misconstrued his disagreement as concern for the welfare of his future wife, and it might prove dangerous to disabuse him of that notion. He decided to push the Marquis once more.

"Surely, you need not follow through with a promise you made to this peasant woman so long ago. It was the will of God that Isabelle survived, not the workings of some herbs mistress who often does more harm than good." He put his fork down waiting for the response.

The Marquis followed suit and threaded his fingers together, resting his elbows on the table. "I do not have it within me to go against Madame Esme's wishes, Sir. She is much beloved by the people of the village, and I would rather cut my own throat with the dullest dagger in my collection than attempt to cross her."

The force in the Marquis's words had stopped Edouard in his tracks. It was outside his realm of understanding to let anyone be more important than he, doubly so a woman, and his disdain at the Marquis pandering to a commoner became evident in his expression even though he responded, "Very well then. I suppose no harm should come of it. It may serve her well when it comes time to bear our first born."

Isabelle felt a shiver travel through her body at the thought. The rest of dinner passed without event, and she gladly retired to her chambers while the two men adjourned to an adjacent parlor to discuss their plans for spending the following day hunting pheasant in one of the meadows near the castle. Alice was waiting for her, sitting expectantly on the chaise at the foot of the bed.

"Mademoiselle," she rushed over to Isabelle as soon as she entered the room, concern written clearly across her features. "Please, you must not enter the forest in the morning. I am afraid. I saw… I heard a wolf's howl in the distance. It's not safe."

"Not to worry, Alice. I'll not be alone. Madame Esme and Jacob shall accompany me on every step of the way. The two of them spend much time in the forest and come out unscathed. I will be perfectly safe." She took the girl's shaking hand, patting it gently and leading her back to the chaise. Alice sat down reluctantly, and Isabelle sank into the cushion next to her, still holding her hand.

"Please, milady," she begged, her voice hoarse from crying.

Isabelle felt sorrow for her evident unhappiness and took Alice in her arms, wrapping her in a warm embrace.

"Hush, ma chere. All is well." She stroked Alice's back gently, soothing her as a mother would a fussy child.

"But I dreamed…"

Isabelle interrupted her by pulling back at arm's length. "All this fuss over a dream?" She laughed. "It will all be well. I promise you. Besides, what could be worse than being forced into a loveless marriage with such a wonderful man as the Duc?" She sighed sorrowfully.

"Please forgive me for being so forward," Alice replied. "I just … don't want any harm to befall you, mademoiselle."

"I understand," Isabelle answered, "and there's nothing to forgive, Alice. Promise me something, please."

Alice nodded.

"Always be honest with me. I will never punish you for speaking your mind to me in private. In public, there shall be times when you will be forced to show subservience, especially around my father and fiancé, but I need someone to tell me the truth in all things. I sense a pure honesty resides in your heart. Will you do as I ask?"

"Always, milady," Alice replied softly.

"Thank you. Now please be truthful with me. Why don't you want me to go into the forest?" She looked deep into Alice's eyes and saw them filled with hesitation and fear. "Alice, you swore," she warned.

Alice cast her eyes downward. "A vision…" Her voice wavered, uncertain of whether or not it was safe to continue.

Isabelle's fingers traced gently along the scars on Alice's palm. The girl flinched, pulling her hand away suddenly.

"Now it is my turn to apologize. I meant you no ill will my dear. Your visions, are they the reason that _this _was done to you?"

Alice nodded again, relaxing a little. "You've had them all your life?"

"Oui, as long as I can remember…" Alice's voice was still uncertain.

"Then you've made no deal with the Devil and are guilty of nothing. Surely such an ability must be a gift from God, something to be admired not feared. The prophets of ancient times had such visions of heaven and future events, and they were revered instead of reviled."

"Men are remiss to call the abilities of a woman a gift from God, milady. It has seemed more of a curse sent straight from hell to paint my life with hardship rather than a blessing. It does not do to stand out from the others." Her voice held a tone of warning.

"Whatever the case may be, just share your visions with me and together we will figure out their merit."

Alice began, "I saw a wolf with golden eyes, larger than any other I've ever seen before, following you through the forest. That was all… Perhaps it was just a dream, but I am frightened just the same."

Isabelle grabbed her hand again. "Well there you go. I'm not to walk through the woods alone. I'll have an escort every step of the way. Does that ease your fears?"

"A little, mademoiselle…"

"And please stop with this mademoiselle and milady nonsense. It makes me feel like an old maid. My name is Isabelle, and you may address me as such."

"I shall try, but it is unseemly for a servant to be so familiar …"

You're not just a servant, Alice. We are going to be great friends, you and I. I can tell just by the way I feel around you. It is at least some consolation to know that I'll not be completely friendless at my new home."

The two girls spent some time that night talking and sharing stories of their lives. Even though Rosalie had been the same age as Isabelle, she had never been much in the way of a companion. Her sense of propriety would never let her get too close. Despite that fact, until now, she had been Isabelle's only friend.

Now she felt as if she had found something of a twin soul in the beautiful raven-haired girl. They settled into the large curtained bed together for warmth on the cold night, the fire dying down in the grate. Isabelle eased into slumber quite readily, but Alice remained awake, fearing the visions would come again if she slept. However eventually, weariness overcame her, and she slept dreamlessly until the dawning sun woke her gently. Isabelle, on the other hand, did dream, quite vividly, but she recalled none of it upon waking. The only clue to the sense playing out behind her eyelids was a simple breathless sigh that sounded remarkably like, "Jacob."


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who makes this readable – ThatPanicGirleE, kennedymommy3 and loss4words. I'm with all my reviewers on this one… I hope that Edouard gets eaten or falls in a hole somewhere. We shall see if it happens…**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The rest of this is just things I think about when I'm bored. Enjoy.**

-x-x-x-

"The wolf, I knew, would lead me deep into the woods,  
away from home, to a dark tangled thorny place  
lit by the eyes of owls. I crawled in his wake,  
my stockings ripped to shreds, scraps of red from my blazer  
snagged on twig and branch, murder clues. I lost both shoes

but got there, wolf's lair, better beware. Lesson one that night,  
breath of the wolf in my ear, was the love poem."

-From _Little Red Cap_ by Carol Ann Duffy

-x-x-x-

The morning dawned over a clouded sky, overcast and gray, but Isabelle had little trouble rising from the warmth of her bed. Alice had been up with the sun and was now busily stoking the fire up from the dying coals it had become during the night. Isabelle rose wordlessly and splashed some of the icy water from the bowl atop he wash stand onto her cheeks.

The coldness took her breath for the moment, and she felt the sting bring the blood to her cheeks. She wiped it away with the cloth that hung there limply.

"Isabelle, I have taken the liberty of preparing your wardrobe for the day." She heard Alice speak from somewhere behind her followed by the rustle of fabric from the large wardrobe that held her clothes, and Isabelle turned.

Alice stood on the other side of the bed arranging the skirts of the dress she had just lay across the bed – a simple frock with a bodice of white and skirt of crimson, sprays of flowers embroidered at the hem in shades of yellow. Isabelle smiled; she'd intended to wear precisely that when she'd laid her head on the pillow last night, but sleep had overcome her before she'd been able to ask Alice to prepare it in the morning.

"How did you know?" Isabelle asked with a smile.

"Know what?" The grin that Alice returned to her was mischievous and elusive.

"Very well then, let's just call it a coincidence. I suppose that on the floor on the side of the bed I'll find my black boots and a pair of white stockings."

"You suppose correctly, mademoiselle." Alice reached down and pulled up a pair of shoes matching the ones in Isabelle's thoughts. Isabelle couldn't help laughing.

"Remind me never to wager against you, ma chere." She moved around to where Alice stood at the foot of the bed. "Now, let's get ready for the day. Jacob will be here before long."

She dressed quickly but had just finished lacing her boots when there was a knock at the door. Isabelle rose arranging her her dress around her and nodded for Alice to get the door. The girl opened it, falling into a deep bow. "Mademoiselle, je me present le Duc du Chasseur."

There was Edouard, waiting expectantly on the opposite side of the doorway.

"You may enter, monsieur," Isabelle spoke formally, coldly.

"I thought you would appreciate an escort on such a dreary morning." His voice was cheery, but there was a hint of something dark behind it.

"Merci, but Madame Esme is sending her assistant to accompany me. I wouldn't want you to have to travel into an unknown place only to return alone. Besides, my father will certainly be expecting you for your hunting excursion at any moment." She made her excuses, glad to have several equally plausible ones at the ready.

His eyes began to narrow as he contemplated his reply. At that moment, Eric chose to clear his throat from the corridor. "Pardon me. The Marquis sends me to inquire if your grace requires anything for this morning's activities and to inform you that he will be ready to leave at the stroke of nine."

"Merci Eric. I require nothing, and I shall be aw awaiting the Marquis in the courtyard at nine." Isabelle glanced at the clock that sat against the wall. It read half past eight; she sighed in relief.

"Edouard." She walked over and rested her hand on his arm as she spoke. "I am very grateful for your concern, but I am in very responsible hands with Alice. She and Madame Esme's assistant will ensure that I have all that is necessary for my safety and comfort. Please go and have a lovely time with my father." Her skin crawled where it touched his, and the words tasted like venom spewing across her tongue. She knew it was the one way he would leave her to her own devices. If it meant playing a part around her fiancé, then she would just have to do so.

He smiled at her insincere words and took her hand in his own, smiling. "I shall do as you ask, Isabelle, if you make me one promise."

She fought the urge to pull her fingers from his grip and looked up at him as sweetly as possible. "Yes, Edouard?"

"Be safe, ma chere. Lots of harm could come to a young girl alone in the woods. Swear to me that you will stay close to this assistant at all times."

Isabelle's smile brightened, honestly for the first time. "That is a simple promise to make and keep, my lord. You have my word."

He released her hand then and moved for the door. He bowed with one hand on the knob. "Til this evening, then." He left quickly, closing the door behind him.

Isabelle looked around the room, now that her attention was free, but Alice was nowhere to be seen. Just then, her door creaked open slowly, revealing Alice with a tray of steaming hot foot.

"Is he finally gone?" She smiled, and Isabelle nodded. "Good, I thought you could use some breakfast, and Cook had some porridge already piping hot in the kettle. I was waiting around the corner until I saw him leave."

"He's gone for the day, but we must eat quickly; it's nearly a quarter of nine." The young girl lay the tray on the bedroom table, and by the time the clock struck nine, the two of them had eaten their fill and were sitting in the small parlor that belonged to Isabelle at the foot of the stairs, admiring the fine chess board her father had given her for Christmas.

Eric stepped into the room, clearing his throat loudly. "Mademoiselle, there is a young man at the kitchen doors for you. He claims to be sent by Madame Esme as your escort for the journey through the forest." His voice was laced with his obvious disdain for the unknown visitor, but even that couldn't stop Isabelle's heart from twisting within her chest.

"Very well, Eric." She fought to keep her excitement out of her voice. "I will join him in a moment."

Eric bowed perfunctorily and backed out of the room.

Alice hurried to gather her cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders from behind, planting a little kiss on Isabelle's cheek as she fastened the clasp around her neck. "Good luck. You're going to need it," Alice whispered cryptically.

Isabelle turned and looked at her, bewilderment stamped clearly on her face, but Alice dismissed her with a laugh. "Go, he is waiting." Alice's words returned her heart to the fluttering pace that it had found when Eric announced the presence of her visitor, and she had to restrain herself from running through the kitchens towards the door she had used to enter the castle the previous afternoon.

When she flung the door open, the first thing that she noticed was the sunlight that had broken through the oppressive clouds of the early morning. The second thing was how the brilliant sunlight shone of the locks of black hair atop Jacob's head, and finally she saw his smile, nearly as bright as the sun that shone from behind him. She couldn't help returning it as she closed the door and rushed to his side.

"I thought this might be a good place to look for you this morning," he said as she took his arm. "Where is the Duc?"

"Waiting for my father in the courtyard," she replied. "The two of them are going hunting this morning. I'm glad you decided to come here, because I don't think I'd have been allowed to leave with you otherwise."

"Allowed?" He looked at her incredulously. "Your father wouldn't approve?"

"Not my father," she answered him. "My fiancé." She spat the word out quickly. It tasted bitter in her mouth.

Jacob laughed harshly. "You don't belong to him just yet. Until then, I wouldn't worry about his approval too much." There was something undercutting his words that gave Isabelle hope.

"Enough about _him_." Isabelle changed the subject abruptly. "Tell me about what I can expect for today." She was nervous about the idea of being a midwife's apprentice. The thought had struck her last night that she knew little of bearing children. The only birth she had ever been present for was little Emmett's, and that had been only a day and a half ago. She hadn't even been around children for much of her life. She realized that there was much she didn't know about life outside the castle walls, and she was glad of the opportunity to learn. However, she had no idea what she would have to go through to gain those lessons.

"I'm sure there will be nothing overly exciting today, Isabelle. Most days we spend gathering herbs in the forest. It is rare that Madame Esme is needed in the village, and on those occasions, she goes without me. A man isn't welcome at childbed."

Isabelle blushed. "Of course."

"There is my favorite shade of red again," he replied. She wasn't sure if he meant her blush or her cloak, but she decided not to inquire, preferring to leave some things a mystery for the time being. The two of them entered the perpetual darkness of the forest quietly. It closed around them, sealing the two of them in their own world as they walked in a comfortable silence.

Behind them, Edouard sat atop his horse watching their backs disappear down the path. His eyes filled with rage, and he struggled to keep himself from galloping off behind them, his knuckles white from their grip on the reins. She belonged to him, and that young upstart of a boy would do well to learn that quickly. Edouard would be sure to make it a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has helped me out or pimped this fic in the past month or so. I'm thrilled and flattered to know that people are even reading it much less recommending it for others to read. Hugs and kiss to all of y'all.**

**And as always, boobie gropes are reserved for the three people who let me know that the meds haven't made my writing unreadable for at least one more chapter - ThatPanicGirleE, kennedymommy3, loss4words… Three lovely ladies with some enormous writing talent. I highly recommend all their stories to anyone looking for something good to read. **

**This chapter and the next come as a pair. You will see why when you read.**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. Anything else is just something I did to those Twilight things when I didn't have anything better to do with my free time.**

-x-x-x-

"Don't you mess with a little girl's dream  
'Cause she's liable to grow up mean

Surprised you to find that I'm laughing?  
You thought that you'd find me in tears  
You thought I'd be crawling the walls  
Like a tiny mosquito and trembling in fear"

From _Control _by Poe

-x-x-x-

Edouard liked to think himself a patient man. He decided to bide his time where things concerning Isabelle were concerned. As much as he hated sharing anything that belonged to him, he realized it was to his advantage to let her have her head for the moment at least. He firmly believed in allowing others to have enough rope to tie the nooses around their own necks.

His mother had done much the same to the Marquis when she'd taken it into her mind to arrange a marriage for her eldest child. The family was an old one, linked to the kings and princes of France since the time of the Merovingians, but being a long lived line, their descendants were many. The holdings of the original Duc had been long since diluted among many heirs and parceled out over the intervening years.

The Marquis on the other hand had been a shrewd businessman, taking his family's once meager holdings and turning them into a hoard rivaling the King's own treasury. He'd had many suitors ambitious for the hand of his only child, who was as yet unseen at court, but she could have been a hag and still had her pick of men young and old alike. She could have requested the hand of the dauphin himself had he not been promised to a foreign princess at his birth.

The Duchess had cultivated a business relationship from the start, so that his trade was now wholly dependent upon her all but failing shipping company. He had to prop her up financially or risk losing everything he had built. Of course, she played the part of the distressed widow so well that he had offered his support willingly enough. It only took the mere suggestion that it could be expedient to forge a more lasting bond between the families, so that the two halves might one day become a whole. He readily agreed. It stood to reason in his mind that his daughter should not be left alone in this world when he was gone, and who better to assume control of all that he had worked so hard to gain than the eldest son of his long time business partner.

The process had taken years, but the Duchess had been granted with the foresight her husband's family had been lacking. She would save her children from going under at all costs. Rather than destroy all that groundwork now, Edouard would wait until Isabelle was fully ensnared to spring a trap on her, lest she be able to escape it, and him, forever.


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

**A/N: This chapter was written as a pair with the last. Read on to see why…**

**Speshul thanks to – thatpanicgirle, loss4words, kennedymommy3. You know what you did…**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. Not me… no way… unh unh… I mean it.**

-x-x-x-

"You thought you could keep me from loving  
You thought you could feed on my soul  
But while you were busy destroying my life  
What was half in me has become whole"

-From _Control _by Poe

-x-x-x-

He watched from the trees as that pompous Duc and the unsuspecting Marquis dismounted from their horses. He could have followed their scent anywhere, sickeningly sweet cologne cut through something much more malicious and cruel. Only a man like that could presume to believe that he could completely own another person without their consent. It was easy enough to control their body, a mere display of force could be sufficient, but their hearts and minds were a different matter altogether.

The Duc scanned the periphery of the meadow where he now found himself, his eyes searching for prey like the falcon that sat on his gloved wrist. With a smooth motion, he launched the bird into the air, and it soared into the sun before beginning its descent. Like a meteor shot from the sun, the bird fell towards the Earth below, pulling back at the last possible moment with a screech, revealing a struggling rabbit in his grip. The bird rose again, making a lazy swooping path to his master.

Once again, the wolf had to fight his instincts. Every fiber of his being urged him to rip the Duc's throat out and leave him bleeding and broken in the meadow, but without justification such an action could never be taken. The last of his kind to take such a drastic step had been punished most severely. There was no reason to risk his life for someone who was merely an irritation at this point. Besides, such an impediment in his path was easy enough to overcome; there was always a path around obstacles. The trick lay in convincing Isabelle of that fact without removing her from his life in the process.

He could see the strands of the web the Duc wove around her while she stood there, unsuspecting and innocent. Every moment, the trap grew more and more inescapable in her mind, but it was only made of spider's silk, each thread delicate and breakable with a touch. If she fought against it, it would prove flimsy enough.

She had the fire within her to fight her supposed destiny. It shone out of her deep brown eyes at times, but defiance had been bred out of her by the world that had surrounded her since her birth. Little did she know that another world lay hidden in the shadows just beyond the borders of what she found familiar and comfortable.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16  
A/N: It's been awhile since I updated, but I needed a break. Thanks for sticking with me through it. I hope you enjoy this. Special thanks as always to loss4words, ThatPanicGirlE and kennedymommy3 for all that they do.

P.S. I switched twitter accounts. I'm no longer CereuleanBlue. Now, I'm NotCBlue. Feel free to come and find me over there.

-x-x-x-

"Hah! little girl, it is desolate, lonely,  
Out in this gloomy old forest of Life!-  
Here are not pansies and buttercups only-  
Brambles and briers as keen as a knife;  
And a Heart, ravenous, trails in the wood  
For the meal have he must,-Red Riding-Hood!"

From "Red Riding Hood" by James Whitcomb Riley

-x-x-x-

Isabelle waited dutifully in the small room where Madame Esme had left her for the moment. It seemed that everyone had abandoned her this morning for prior engagements –her father, Jacob, and now Esme. Almost as soon as she had come into the cottage, the older woman had hurried out the door again with a murmured excuse that she would return in a moment, and Jacob had left her standing at the door alone with a whispered promise that he would see her again before noon which left her heart fluttering in her chest like a trapped bird.

Now that she found herself alone, she couldn't stop her eyes from wandering curiously around the room and drinking in the sights that the cluttered space afforded them. There were bundles of herbs hanging to dry from the rafters around the room and the various tools that she had seen Madame Esme use only two nights ago scattered across a small table top where she had been cleaning them with a scrap of linen. Isabelle walked over to the table and touched them gently, wondering if she would ever become as adept with them as Madame Esme had seemed that night. The older woman's presence seemed to make things better, more certain somehow, and it was a comfort that Isabelle found herself needing more and more of late.

Something in the corner caught her eye, the flicker of a candle as it blew out, and she noticed something that she couldn't believe she had missed before. The figure of a woman filled a small table top in the far corner of the room. The surface around her was littered with the stubs of half burnt candles and the petals of red and yellow flowers that had been recently brought in from the outside world. The scent still lingered on them and perfumed the air in that corner of the room so that it smelled like a small piece of heaven.

The statue was the most amazing thing; it held Isabelle's attention at once and drew her in for closer inspection. The young woman with a cherubic face, garbed in a robe of blood red, was standing atop a dragon whose scales shone a glittering green in the filtered sunlight of the room. It almost seemed alive, frozen in place, ready to begin moving again at the slightest signal from Isabelle. She couldn't stop herself from reaching out to touch it. Just as her fingers brushed the teeth of the dragon, the door behind her swung open, nearly startling her out of her skin.  
Isabelle whirled around suddenly to see Esme entering the room with a basket full of freshly picked flowers of the same sort that adorned the table before her. When Esme looked to see what had drawn Isabelle's attention she smiled.

"I see you have met Margaret." Esme brought the basket over and lay it on the floor by Isabelle's feet. She began to arrange the flowers on the makeshift altar, removing the blossoms that had begun to wither or fade and replacing them with fresh blooms one at a time.

"She's beautiful," Isabelle whispered, unsure of whether she had trespassed in touching such an obviously beloved object. She felt more certain of herself when Esme smiled at the compliment.

"Thank you, my dear. She was a gift from the midwife whom I apprenticed with many years ago. She's very ancient; I'm certain she's been passed down through several generations of midwives and apprentices, but she's never lost her shine." Madame Esme brushed a loving finger along the hem of the statue's scarlet robes. "Do you know the story of Saint Margaret?"

Isabelle shook her head uncertainly. "No, I know that she is the patron saint of childbirth and that all women are said to pray to her in child bed, but I have never seen her portrayed this way." She motioned to the dragon as she spoke.

Madame Esme smiled. "There are those who say her story is not real, only a tale to frighten children. Saint Margaret was a beautiful young woman, the daughter of a pagan priest. Her mother died giving her life." Esme turned to face Isabelle, taking her hands and leading her over to a shelf from which she pulled down a beautiful manuscript, more ancient than any Isabelle had ever seen before. She flipped to a page and opened it to show an image of a beautiful girl, tending sheep.

"Her father sent her out to nurse with a woman of the village where Margaret decided to consecrate her body and virginity to God. Upon hearing of his daughter's vow, the father disowned her, and left her to the care of the nursemaid."

"One afternoon when Margaret was out in the fields tending the sheep, the Governor, Olybrius, saw her and thought her the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. He immediately ordered the members of his household to inquire about her status, whether she be married or maid, slave or free woman. When his servants came back with the news that she was unmarried and free, he sent for her to come to his great villa." Esme turned the page, revealing another illustration just as beautiful as the first of the same young woman standing before the dais in a throne room, speaking with a man dressed in rich robes of deep jewel tones. Isabelle had to fight the urge to reach out and touch the page.

Esme continued, "He offered her his hand in marriage, but she refused, insisting that her virginity was sacred to the Lord. Now, in those days, it was illegal to worship the Christ, so this Governor decided to have her tried as a Christian. She was thrown into the dungeons and left for days, fasting and praying for salvation."

"The authorities came to Margaret and argued with her to change her mind. They offered her freedom if she would only agree to make a sacrifice to one of their pagan idols, but she still refused, so she was sentenced to death."

Isabelle gasped, "No," but Esme continued on with the story ignoring the girl's shock at the turn in the story. She found the next illustration in the tale, one that mirrored the statue in the room with them. The girl standing atop a great dragon who lay slain on a stone floor.

"It is said that night in the dungeon the Devil came to her in the form of a dragon and swallowed her whole, but Margaret made the sign of the cross as she was being swallowed. The dragon's belly burst open, and she leapt out unharmed. For this reason, she is the patron saint of childbirth for she died a virgin but has traveled the same road as the innocent babe and emerged unharmed."

"Finally the day came for her execution. They tried to burn her at first, but the flames wouldn't touch her. They couldn't even scorch the hem of her robes, and she emerged from the fire untouched, perfect, and more beautiful than before. Next, they tried to boil her alive in a cauldron of water simmering over a raging fire, but once again she was unharmed as she rose from the steaming water, her lips murmuring in silent prayer for deliverance."

"At this moment, the Earth began to tremble and shake and the skies seemed to rip open with thunder and lightning. A single white dove flew down from the sky and placed a golden crown on Margaret's head, and thousands of those who came to witness her death were converted to Christianity there on the spot."

"The authorities decided it would be best to behead her to keep her from becoming a force for turning the will of the people against them, and before further incident could take place, Margaret was beheaded." Madame Esme closed the book. "It is a tragic story is it not, ma chere?"

Isabelle was shocked to find tears streaming down her face. "Very," she replied, quickly swiping at the tears with the sleeve of her gown. She had found more in common with the girl of the story than she had ever expected to. A childless girl, fostered out to a woman of the local village who loved her as a child of her own, now forced into a marriage she did not desire. However, she could plead no motive so innocent as reserving her virginity as sacred to God.

Isabelle turned her back on Madame Esme as she heard the woman returning the book to its place on the shelf. A moment later, she felt the gentle touch of the older woman's hand on her shoulder. "Things will work out for the best, Isabelle. They always do, even if you don't realize it at the time."

The words were comforting to her, even though they could easily have been empty promises meant to ease the fears of a young girl promised in marriage to a man she did not love. All Isabelle could manage to do was nod and force a smile.

"Now, we have much to do this morning." Esme recited a list of the tools Isabelle would need on her outing into the woods this morning. Isabelle was glad for the distraction of having to gather the things into a basket Madame Esme had handed her. Some of the objects were quite readily available while others were a little more difficult to locate.

When she'd finally found the tiny silver handled knife she'd been searching for, she turned to Madame Esme, "There. That's the last thing. I suppose I'm ready to go."

Esme was peering out of the window at the front of the room, pulling one of the curtains back with her index finger. "Just in time…" she replied cryptically.

Isabelle made her way across the room to look over Esme's shoulder. When she saw Jacob striding confidently across the yard, the light of the sun glinting off his dark hair, it took her breath for the moment, and she knew, in that second, that she was in serious trouble.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**  
Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended… I simply have things beating around in my head that demand to see the light of day from time to time.

A/N: Thanks to the usual suspects… loss4words for your beta work, ThatPanicGirleE for using up spare concert tickets that I have lying around the place and providing psychotherapy free of charge, kennedymommy3 for being the reason I love Jacob in the first place, and last but not least Mr. Blue for providing inspiration.

-x-x-x-

"Once a youthful pair,  
Filled with softest care,  
Met in garden bright  
Where the holy light  
Had just removed the curtains of the night.

Then, in rising day,  
On the grass they play;  
Parents were afar,  
Strangers came not near,  
And the maiden soon forgot her fear."  
From "A Little Girl Lost" by William Blake

-x-x-x-

Much to Isabelle's surprise, Madame Esme had sent her into the woods with Jacob to gather some of the herbs that grew wild there.

"They must be gathered before the noon day sun can remove the good from them my dear," Esme had said. "And I must remain here to tend to the tincture that I have left brewing over the fire outside. Don't worry; Jacob will care for you as if you were his own sister."

Isabelle had to stifle a laugh at that. She wasn't sure exactly why, but no matter how mysterious Jacob might seem, she trusted him implicitly with her well-being. Still, her heart raced from something other than fear at the thought of being alone with him in the forest. Part of her wanted it more than anything else in the world, and part of her was reluctant for some unknown cause.

She picked up her basket with only a silent nod of assent and joined Jacob. He was standing next to the door with a mischievous smile on his face the she couldn't help but return. He offered her his arm as soon as they were out the door and called out behind him, "See you soon, Madame."

"Take your time, mon fils," Esme replied.

"Oui, madame." He turned to Isabelle. "We have to leave the path, ma belle. You're not afraid are you?"

She shook her head no without speaking, but swallowed hard to push down the conflicting feelings that rose in her throat.

"Good," he replied in a voice that soothed her fears but stirred something unknown inside her and almost caused her knees to buckle. When she stumbled he was behind her so quickly it almost seemed impossible with a pair of steadying hands at her waist. The heat of them melted through the fabric and burned into her skin, causing her legs to wobble again and forcing her to lean into his chest for support.

"Pardon me, monsieur." She blushed chastely, but made no hast to release the pressure created by her body against his. "I fear I did not sleep well last night in anticipation of this day's happenings, and my legs are rather weak."

His own hands lingered in their hold on her so that for the moment neither of them moved. With a deep intake of breath that slowly turned into a sigh, he released her and moved back to her side.

"Be careful," he warned, his voice thick and rich like honey in the sunlight. The sound of it made something inside her come undone, something she hadn't even known was trapped. She became acutely aware of his every move beside her, feeling the proximity of his body to hers even in the places where their skin didn't touch.

Where it did touch, tendrils of fire burned their way into her very blood and snaked their way into her chest. Her breath quickened try as she might to fight it. As they strayed further from the path, the trees closed in around them, but rather than seeming ominous as they had before, their proximity was comforting, like the presence of a guardian. The sense of something benevolent watching over the pair of them was tangible, and the warmth of it settled over her as she felt her entire body begin to relax.

After a short walk, Isabelle spotted a beam of sunlight breaking through the line of trees ahead of them. The closer they got to the mysterious source of the light, the trees became thinner and less ancient, giving way to mere saplings at the edge of the unexpected clearing before them. When she emerged from the trees fully, the sight of it took her breath away. Hidden in the middle of the forest, here in the middle of nowhere was a meadow straight out of a fairy tale.

Sprays of violet and saffron intermingled with the deep green of ferns and foliage that lay scattered around the expanse of the ground here. No patch of earth was visible to her eye as she scanned the vicinity, but various patches of familiar herbs did find their way into her view. Isabelle released her breath slowly. Jacob looked at her with a sunbeam of a smile.

"Welcome to our meadow," he gestured to the small expanse before them dotted with a variety of plants that were familiar but somehow more wild than Isabelle ever remembered seeing them before. Vines twisted their way around a fallen log, lining it with a coat of green. Everything was just a little more brilliantly colored, a little larger, a little more alive than it should have been. She stared around her in awe of it all, until she felt the warmth of his arm next to hers.

"Beautiful isn't it?"

All Isabelle could do was nod in response. It was all she could do just to breathe with him that close to her in a place like this.

"Ready to get to work?"

She smiled. "As ready as I shall ever be, I suppose." The pair of them set off towards the center of the clearing, Jacob indicating plants that they would be gathering during their time in the forest this morning along with their uses.

The morning passed quickly in her mind as they worked together, and after a time the pair of them settled into a comfortable silence, only speaking when it was necessary to change tasks. As the sun was reaching the midpoint of the sky, they began working on the final herb that Madame Esme had requested.

"Raspberry leaves bring on contractions when an infant is past due." He indicated the plant in front of him showing her the broad leaves with branching veins. "Be careful of the thorns." He turned the leaf over to expose the stem beneath it lined with tiny needle like protrusions.

Isabelle reached out gently, but still managed to scrape the pad of her finger across the edge of one of the thorns. Jerking her hand back quickly, she spied a drop of red blood glistening in the sunlight.

Before she could respond, Jacob was at her side, wrapping her finger in a small piece of linen he had quickly produced from somewhere. He bound the scratch gently, his fingers whispering over her skin and distracting her from the mild sting. As soon as he was done, he brought the bandaged digit to his lips and ghosted a kiss across the knuckle.

"There, all better. He rose and offered her his hand to help her do likewise.

She felt dizzy at his touch, and after rising too quickly, the world swam around her. Her knees buckled again, and his instinct was to wrap his arms around her waist to keep her from hitting the ground. The feelings that surged in her chest were much stronger than they had been this morning. After spending so much time around him, he was able to hit a deeper part of her heart than before. They were pulled inexorably towards each other, like the incoming tides towards the dunes along the shore. Isabelle could no more stop herself than the wave could halt its approach to the sand. In truth, she didn't wish to. She closed her eyes, anticipating the inevitable but opened them again in surprise when his lips finally made contact with hers.

Isabelle thought she had known what this would be like, but there was no way she could have imagined it would light up her whole existence in a moment. She found herself greedily drinking in the sensation, her hands snaking around Jacob's shoulders. The sparks between them threatened to set the world on fire. Just when she thought she'd gone past reason, forgetting who and what she was, reality settled on her shoulder with its old familiar weight, and she pulled back.

Jacob stood looking bewildered as she pulled further away. Isabelle wanted to find the words to explain to him, to make him understand why all of this was impossible.

"I…" She began and paused, looking in his eyes and reading the emotions that clearly flickered there. "I can't," she finished her thought and turned to run into the trees.

She stumbled blindly, the unbidden tears clouding her vision as she tripped and blundered in what she could only pray was the correct direction. She fell and found her way to her feet only to fall again as soon as she stood. This time she remained in place, simply letting the tears come.

Isabelle wished fervently that she were anyone other than who she was or that she at least had the courage to simply run away from all the expectation that the world had placed on her. The weight of them hung heavy like a winter cloak in the full heat of summer. She was so wrapped up in her sorrow that she didn't hear Jacob's approach and had to stop herself from screaming when he placed a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him, and the expression on her face tore him apart.

"I'm sorry, Isabelle. Can you ever forgive me? I had no right to…"

His apology made her sob that much more violently, until her entire body shook with the force of them. If she could, she would have liked to melt into the earth here, to become one of the animals that lived amongst the trees. They were at least free to come and go as they wished. Isabelle had not even been given that luxury in her life.

"Isabelle?" Jacob dropped to his knees beside her, the concern on his face eating into her heart.

"You know I belong to him?" She looked into his eyes, the tears streaming down her cheeks in a flood.

He reached up, wiping them away gently. "You belong to no one but yourself, ma belle. You and no one else unless you choose to give of yourself to them. Do you understand?"

She nodded but was unconvinced by his words. Part of her felt chained to her future like Saint Margaret chained to the dungeon walls waiting for the dragon to come and devour her.


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18  
Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just write things based around her characters when I'm home alone and bored.

A/N: Thanks to you guys who help me through life on a daily basis. Sbgdgt for talking me down off the ledge the other night, ThatPanicGirleE for listening to me complain about DH, kennedymommy3 for rewarding me with a little squee when I send her a new chapter, and loss4words for finding the 75 bajillion mistakes I make in every chapter.

Also thanks to those of you have read/reviewed/nominated my story. You guys rock and just remember without you I'd never have had the courage to write anything at all.

This one is another short chapter from the wolf's POV Enjoy.

-x-x-x-

"My love is like to ice, and I to fire:  
How comes it then that this her cold so great  
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,  
But harder grows the more I her entreat?  
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat  
Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,  
But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,  
And feel my flames augmented manifold?  
What more miraculous thing may be told,  
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice,  
And ice, which is congeal'd with senseless cold,  
Should kindle fire by wonderful device?  
Such is the power of love in gentle mind,  
That it can alter all the course of kind."  
-Edmund Spenser

-x-x-x-

He watched her as she stared sullenly out the window of her room. She'd been home no more than a quarter of an hour, but her face had almost immediately appeared in that window. She hadn't moved more than an inch since she'd settled there. The scent of her drifted down on the breeze towards him, and nearly drove him mad with want.

Suddenly without warning, she collapsed her face into her folded arms. He could taste the salt of her tears in the air, even from this distance. They tasted bitter, filled with grief at what, at least in her mind, could never be.

He ached to go to her, the girl set off his protective instincts, especially with the scent of that foul Duc lingering around the chateau. It disturbed him a little that he should be undone by the mere slip of a girl that he beheld before him, but she held some sort of a power about her that was not evident in her first appearance.

The wolf backed away when the odd blue eyes of that girl appeared in the window behind Isabelle. He was certain that this one could see more than most, perhaps she would see him for the monster he really was, rather than the animal he pretended to be.

He continued to watch from deeper in the trees, the scent of the castle muted by the breeze and the flowers that were beginning to bloom around the edges of the forest. The Duc appeared in the garden below and made his way to the edge of the trees, studying them carefully. The wolf lunged forward, but paused in mid-leap when reason stopped him from foolish action. However, the movement attracted the attention of the man towards whom it had been directed.

The duc looked up, studying the darkness carefully, unable to avoid seeing the yellow glow of the eyes of the wolf as they watched him calculatingly from the shadows. He backed away slowly from the tree line, never taking his gaze away from those eyes for more than a moment, until he was far enough away that he made a run for the safety of the stone walls behind him.

Still, the wolf never moved an inch. He fought instinct and emotion, but swore silently that the Duc would never have Isabelle. The girl had been his from the moment he set eyes on her, and nothing and no one was going to prevent him having what already belonged to him.

A/N: Six more chapters plus an epilogue to go…. Wish me luck.


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 –

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all the Twilight stuff she hasn't sold outright to Summit Entertainment. I am just taking a ride in her wheelbarrow for a little while.

A/N – Thanks to:

Loss4words for editing this masterpiece of insanity.

ThatPanicGirleE for encouraging me to keep going

My sister for calling me a fruitcake on a daily basis

McDonalds for Mocha Frappes

My kids for going to bed on time so Mama has time to write

Without further adieu…

-x-x-x-

"A flame shot through my soul, in that first kiss.

I was on fire. I knew no thought but this;

I loved you-mind, heart, body, brain and soul.

And had-since centuries first began to roll.

And when your melting mouth had answered mine,

Within your eyes, a new-born light divine

Proclaimed the wondrous miracle was done,

And our two souls had melted into one."

- From "Aftermath_" _by Anonymous

-x-x-x-

Isabelle felt sick when she arrived home that evening. She and Jacob hadn't spoken at all on their journey back, and it was heavier than the comfortable silence they had shared in the meadow. There was something expectant about it, like both of them were waiting for something to happen but too scared to hurry it along.

He bid her goodbye with nothing more than a very courteous bow before turning to reenter the forest. Every step he took away from her tugged at the invisible string that connected them until he was out of sight, and it felt as if her heart would be yanked straight from her chest.

When she was certain he was gone, Isabelle ran up the stairs to her chambers, thankful that no one saw the tears that once again rolled down her cheeks. She plopped down at the window seat and looked out across the only world she knew, the world that seemed to be crashing down around her ears a little more every moment she remained in it. The sounds of the village drifted up to greet her, and she realized that whatever the outcome she must bid goodbye too all of this forever.

Isabelle's reserve broke then, and all the things she'd been trying to hold back came gushing forward. All at once, she felt homesick, exhausted, confused, betrayed by her own father and heart, and strangely underneath it all ran an undercurrent of hope. Hope that something good could come of all this disaster.

She had become so wrapped up in her own world that Isabelle didn't notice Alice had even come into the room until she felt the weight of her body on the seat next to her and the pressure of Alice's arm wrapping around her shoulders.

"Shh," Alice whispered. "It's all going to be alright, mon amie. You shall see."

Isabelle collapsed into Alice's embrace, feeling a little less like the motherless child she truly was at that moment. She looked up to reply, "But you don't even know the trouble."

"I can read it written all over your face. You're in love, and it's obviously not with his Grace, the Duc." Alice smoothed the stray locks of Isabelle's hair back into place, smiling at the look of shock that sat on her face. "You forget I have sisters. Someone was constantly in love in our cottage."

"And I have no one, no sisters, no mother." Isabelle answered.

"Not no one, chere. You have me. You have Esme, whether you know it or not. She loves you more than my own mother ever cared for me amongst her brood of girls."

Isabelle heard the sadness in Alice's voice, and she immediately felt guilty for troubling the girl with her petty problems. She felt very silly to be torn between a handsome young man she fancied herself in love with and a handsome rich man who wanted to be her husband. Still, she felt that something weighed in the balance here, something perhaps as important as life or death.

Isabelle sighed and stood to pace about the room, leaving Alice on the window seat.

"So, let me guess. The young gentilhomme who came to escort you this morning…"

Isabelle froze in place, stunned once again.

"I was watching out the window, chere. He was quite handsome, and I saw the way your eyes lit up when you spoke to him. He loves you too, Isabelle, that much is plain to see."

"I suppose it matters very little. I am promised to the Duc, and Papa knows that I'll not dishonor him by refusing. But Alice, I'm afraid my heart shall tear in two if something doesn't stop this marriage."

"Everything works out for the best, Isabelle. If I promise you you shall live to be a happy old woman will that help?" Alice stood and took Isabelle's hand. "Besides, you are my sister now, and I'll not see one of my sisters unhappy."

Isabelle sank to the bed and sat there for some time, staring into space and gathering her emotions into a tight ball, hiding them away for the time being.

For the next few days, she went about the motions of living, eating and drinking, performing her assigned task, and only speaking when it was absolutely necessary. Edouard seemed not to notice the change in her, but the Marquis certainly did.

"Isabelle, are you feeling well?" He stopped her one evening on the stairs after dinner.

"Just tired, Papa," she replied.

He was unconvinced, but he let it go at that. The Duc seemed little interested in her company and kept inquiring about the local hunting – the fowl and creatures that were typically taken and finally about wolves.

"Tell me, Charles. They say the forests here are rife with wolves. Is it true?" The Duc stood next to the fire in the study, suddenly intent on the subject.

"We see them from time to time, and occasionally the odd animal has been killed. Oh, and one of our hunters was lost last summer, but that was a rare occurrence. May I inquire about your interest, your Grace?"

"No reason," Edouard said dismissively, changing the subject and removing the question from the mind of the Marquis with idle chatter.

The Duc had grown increasingly bored with the offerings of the rural village in which he was currently imprisoned and longed for the distractions that home offered. He found himself making excuses to return. Perhaps his mother and sister would need him to accompany them on their journey. He had written them days ago, almost immediately after his arrival, with just that inquiry, so he was pleased when Eric handed him a letter in the Duchess's careful script, confirming that he would be needed as the Lord Alec seemed to have fallen ill and would be unable to travel for some time

He broached the subject at dinner, choosing just this moment so as to have both the Marquis and his daughter together for his announcement.

"Ma chere," he addressed Isabelle, perfectly aware that her father heard every word of their conversation. "I'm afraid I have some rather difficult news for you. Maman has written to ask that I return home to escort she and my younger sister on their journey to meet you. My younger brother has fallen ill, and so it falls upon me in his absence. I hope you will not mind my absence so soon after our introduction."

He saw Isabelle's eyes come to life for the first time in days. He'd thought she was growing resigned to her circumstances, but apparently, he had been wrong. He felt the fire flare up in his chest. For a few days, it had appeared that she had less fight in her than was first apparent, but now he saw the light dancing behind them again. She would be a challenge, and he always enjoyed a challenge.

"No, monsieur. I understand. Your mother has need of you. I shall endure until you return; I have my work with Madame Esme to keep me occupied in the mean time, but you are kind to think of my feelings. I look forward to meeting the rest of your family when they arrive here. Do you know how long I might have until then?" Isabelle's words were carefully chosen, betraying none of her true thoughts, but she couldn't conceal the calculating behind them that showed in her face.

"About a week, ma chere, perhaps a little more, but no longer than ten days, I promise." He watched her carefully then as she turned to speak to her father.

"Papa, might I beg a favor of you?" she asked, arranging her face innocently in the Marquis's direction.

"Of course, Isabelle," he replied to her deferentially, a doting father.

"Madame Esme has need of me in the evenings. She has two mothers whom she is expecting to be delivered at any moment now, and I wish to be present when the time comes. I was hoping that since the Duc shall be away you would allow me to spend the intervening time at her cottage, learning as much as I can. I imagine I'll be very busy once the Duchess returns, planning for the engagement party and wedding." She paused and blushed chastely at the mention, casting her eyes down to the floor.

"Oui, ma fille. You may have until the Duc's return to learn as much as you can, but then we will have need of your presence here. I hope it will not be too much of an inconvenience for Madame Esme."

"She asked me to stay with her a couple of days ago, but I knew that it wasn't a possibility with the Duc here. I wouldn't even dream of it," she replied.

The Duc watched their conversation carefully. The Marquis was obviously clueless, but Isabelle was clever. He made a mental note to leave someone behind to keep an eye on her to see what she was up to while he was gone. Perhaps Eric would be willing to accept a little bribe to keep an eye on his bride to be.

The Duc returned to his room that night and prepared to leave at dawn for home. Let Isabelle have her little taste of freedom for the time; she would be his soon enough.


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20:

Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just write thing to fill the emptiness in my chest.

-x-x-x-

"Even a man who is pure in heart  
and says his prayers by night,  
may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms  
and the Autumn moon is bright."

_The Wolf Man (1941)_

-x-x-x-

Isabelle stirred in the bed she shared with Esme, her eyes fluttering open gently. She was not sure wheat had woken her, but whatever it was hadn't been enough to trouble Esme from her slumber. Isabelle's first day in residence at the little cottage had been tiring and ended with an unexpected trip into the village to attend a birth. Thankfully, the labor was easy , and the mother was well enough experienced with birth after her previous four children.

Even so, the two women had collapsed on the large bed as soon as they had arrived back at the cottage. Isabelle couldn't be certain which of them had slept first, since it seemed to her that she had been unconscious before she had come into contact with the pillow.

Jacob had been suspiciously absent all day. She hadn't been able to summon the courage to ask Esme where he might be, and the older woman had volunteered no information. It mad eher heart ache to know how she must have wounded him the day before, like a dagger driven into her chest, but it hurt still more not to be able to see him, to be in his presence and feel the warmth that radiated from him like the summer sun in a cloudless sky.

The freedom that Isabelle felt knowing that the Duc was far away and moving farther by the moment balanced out her demeanor somewhat, and the business of the day had kept her occupied. However, now in the darkness there was no way to keep her emotions under control. She climbed out of bed gently so as not to disturb its other occupant and went to sit in the large chair next to the fireplace. The warmth of the evening had allowed them to go without a fire for the time being, so the only light in the room came from the moonlight that filtered in through the windows.

She stared out of the window closest to her for some time, watching the way the silvery light danced through the tree limbs that surrounded the house. Something called to her out there, pulled at her heart like a magnet, with a force that she couldn't explain. Isabelle walked to the window, looking out longingly at the night, searching for some explanation for the tug she felt and finding none. The only thing that disturbed the stillness of the night was the sound of a lone wolf howling in the distance.

The longing in that sound sent a shiver down her spine. It echoed something that she felt, but hadn't been able to express – wanting something that she could never have. Isabelle leaned against the window sill, her mind wandering, dreaming of a world where her dreams weren't a total impossibility. She wished she were the daughter of one of the peasant farmers who occupied the landscape around Cygne. It would have made her life so much easier.

A scratching at the door behind her shook her out of her dreams. It reminded her of the noise her father's dogs made when trying to get into one of the rooms at the castle. She cautiously opened the door, and her heart nearly stopped in mid-beat when it revealed a large, russet-colored wolf staring back at her.

Her first instinct was to slam and latch the door, but she fought against it, drawn instead by something she saw in the wolf's eyes. They were so familiar, like something she had seen a million times before, and they drew her out of the cottage and into the moonlit clearing beyond.

The animal backed away from her approach. He seemed just as frightened of her as she was of him. The pair circled each other cautiously, inching closer with each pass they made, until they were only a few feet from each other.

Isabelle worried for a moment that she might be dreaming, but the feel of a sharp stone on the bottom of her bare food brought her the realization that this was all too real. Something about the animal before her held her entranced. She wanted to go to it and run her fingers through the red-brown of the fur on his back.

She realized this was a wild animal, but there was nothing about it that made her afraid. She knew she should be concerned, that there must be something wrong with it to allow a human to be so close or to approach a human house. By all rights, she should be dead before she was ever allowed to be within a foot of a wolf.

Her finger's stretched out cautiously, closing the inches that separated the two of them, and the wolf froze in place. She could feel the heat rising from his back, warm and comforting like one of her father's pets.

"Good boy," she spoke soothingly and took one last step forward, bringing her palm against the animal's fur. It was surprisingly soft. She'd expected the hair there to be rough and wiry, but it was the opposite. She stroked him gently, and he sank to his haunches on the ground and whined slightly.

"It's alright," Isabelle replied. "I won't hurt you." She sank to the ground next to him, bringing her face level with his. Her heart thrummed wildly in her chest, but she continued on despite the warnings her body kept sending her. She should have felt afraid, but she was exhilarated.

After a few moments contact, the wolf rose abruptly and took a few steps away from Isabelle. Her heart sank in her chest when she thought he was leaving her, but a moment later he stopped and turned to face her again, waiting for her to follow.

She rose, falling in behind the creature as he continued walking away from the cottage.

_What are you doing? You must be crazy, following a wild animal into the forest in the middle of the night. I guess being dead is a decent alternative to being married to the Duc, though, and at least this is an interesting way to end it all._

The animal chose the exact path that Jacob and she had followed the previous day, and when they reached the clearing, flooded with moonlight, he stopped in the dead center. Isabelle came close again, but this time when she lay her hand on the animal's back, the air around him crackled and wavered. She pulled her hand back quickly and took an involuntary step away.

She watched fascinated as the wolf's fur and skin seemed to melt away into the air, being replaced by an expanse of tan skin. When the metamorphosis was complete, she gasped as she recognized the figure that sat in the center of the clearing. It was obviously human, with a shock of long black hair falling around the down-turned face.

Isabelle's mouth opened, but no sound came out. She was speechless until he looked up to see her and their eyes locked. She found her voice again and used it to say his name, "Jacob…"


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just like to mess around with other people's stuff sometimes.

A/N: I am nervous as hell about this chapter. Read on, and you'll see why.

-x-x-x-

"Tired with kisses sweet,  
They agree to meet  
When the silent sleep  
Waves o'er heaven's deep,  
And the weary tired wanderers weep."

-from _Little Girl Lost _by William Blake

-x-x-x-

Jacob and Isabelle sat in the moonlight talking. He had retrieved his clothes from their hiding place behind a fallen tree and resumed his normal appearance.

"You know, I hadn't expected you to be at the cottage, ma chere. Usually, Esme is there alone after dark, but I'm glad it was you after all. I've been wanting to tell you, but I supposed it didn't matter since you were to be married soon." He rested his hands in his lap, staring down at them, unable to meet her gaze from fear of her reaction. So far she had been oddly silent, and he wasn't sure if she was absorbing all the information she had been exposed to tonight or considering the best route to escape.

Isabelle sighed softly, reaching out to take his upturned hand in hers. "Yes, married – to a man I do not love and who obviously does not love me. I can think of nothing better." She laughed bitterly, and the sound of it stung Jacob's soul.

"Ma belle, please don't . . ." he began, but his voice trailed off at the end of the sentence. He wasn't sure how he meant to finish his sentence. There were a myriad of possibilities, each of them more unlikely than the last to work out in their favor.

"It doesn't matter Jacob. What must be, will be. Now, tell me how you came to be as you are." She stroked his hand, distracting him from his reckless thoughts and bringing him back to the present.

"My father was a woodsman, a hunter, and he stumbled upon a scene one night out in the woods that he would never forget – a wolf, transformed into a man. When the man spied him in the distance he tried to run, but a pack of wolves surrounded him. Each of them transformed as the first had until he was hemmed in by a group of men rather than animals."

"He came to learn that these men were loup garou – shapeshifters – who could transform themselves at will, but this knowledge came with a price. The wolves had agreed that any who learned of their secret must become one of them. This was the only way that any person could be trusted not to betray them to the villagers that lived nearby. So, the first of them he had seen changed to a wolf and bit him."

Isabelle gasped, considering the implications of this story for herself. The expression on her face must have told her thoughts because the look of sadness on Jacob's face was replaced by one of concern. "Don't worry, I would never do anything like that to you, but there are others in these woods that would not be so generous."

"How can I have lived all my life in such proximity to a fairy tale and not have known?" She asked him perplexed.

"No one knows, chere. The loup garou are merely whispers of a legend, an old tale told to frighten children from wandering off into the woods alone, and we have fought hard to keep it that way. There are a precious few humans who know of our existence, and we have worked hard to keep it that way. There are stiff penalties for exposing ourselves."

"For instance?"

"Well, if the others found out that I had shown myself to you, both of us would suffer for it, but I will not let that happen." He looked ferocious for a moment, and the look both frightened and comforted Isabelle. She was glad his emotion was in defense of her rather than against her.

"That explains how your father came to be a wolf by night and a man by day. How about you?"

He smiled, "When a loup garou male mates with a human woman, there is always a slight chance that the child will be a shape shifter. The first signs of the change are seen just after weaning, and the babes that show signs are sent to live with the pack in the woods until they are of age. Maman didn't want me to go, but there was little she could do to stop it from happening. Papa agreed to stay with me until I was of age, but even so, it left Maman practically a widow and actually a widow when he ran afoul of a hunter in the forest one day."

"I'm sorry Jacob," she replied gently. "I didn't know."

"You couldn't have," he comforted her. "It's alright. I was a small boy when it happened, and I barely remember any of it. My earliest memories are of being raised by the pack, and the occasional visit I was allowed with Maman. The only reason the wolves allowed her to know about us all is because they are afraid of her. She has them all fooled into believing she's a witch." He chuckled gently.

"One moment. Maman?" Isabelle's thoughts swam around inside her head, colliding with each other until she could fully comprehend everything that he was telling her. "Madame Esme is your mother?"

He nodded.

"I thought her son died of the influenza as a baby." Isabelle was confused, unable to reconcile the grown man before her with the idea of the baby that she had shared the first year of her life with. She had no direct memories of him, just a sense of missing something that should have been there – the same feeling she had about her mother and sisters, people who should have been around her but weren't.

The thought brought tears to Isabelle's eyes for all the things she'd lost before she ever knew she needed them, for the life she could have had and all the things she couldn't change. She felt Jacob's arm wrap securely around her shoulders, pulling her into an embrace that she refused to fight. She let herself relax and melt into him, feeling like all she could do in his presence was weep, and she was instantly ashamed of herself.

Pulling away, she spoke. "I'm sorry. I have no idea what has come over me tonight. Forgive me for my lack of control." She fell into her accustomed sense of propriety for support, feeling as if behaving like everything was normal would make it so.

She was shocked when Jacob grabbed her shoulders, "Stop that. I'm not him, you know. You don't have to pretend around me."

"Pretend?"

"Pretend that everything is fine, that you're not just as confused as I am right now. You just saw me change from a wolf to this, and you're acting like I invited you over for a formal visit. I would be surprised if you hadn't had some kind of reaction to it all." It was like he could read her thoughts and demolished all the barriers she'd built up to protect herself with one swipe. She felt naked, but strangely it was comforting not to have to support the façade that she had tried to create. She relaxed for the moment letting it soak into her mind.

Isabelle did the first thing that came into her thoughts; she leaned forward placing her lips on Jacobs, giving him the kiss she wished she had the previous day. Throwing all caution to the wind, she allowed herself to feel her way through it without any of the fears or constraints that she had placed on herself because of the impropriety of the situation.

If the world could house such creatures as he, then it was a much wider place than she had ever imagined. She wanted to experience it fully for the first time in her sheltered life, to shed all the masks and pretenses that she had assumed as a part of her role as a dutiful daughter and future Marquise. Isabelle had always done what was expected of her, no matter how much her thoughts and emotions might rebel against it.

Here in the woods, no one could see her, no one could tell her it was wrong or immodest of her to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer into an embrace that seemed to awaken a part of her she hadn't known existed. She hadn't known how much she really wanted him for her own until she realized that the possibility existed.

That newly awoken part of her took over control of her body as their kiss became more passionate and heated. Their hands clawed at each other's backs, gently at first but with increasing fervor as they continued. She didn't even notice when the seam at the back of her dress gave way to a firm tug and the fabric began inching its way down, leaving her shoulders bare to the cold night air.

For the first time, Jacob hesitated. Isabelle could tell that he was just as eager as she felt, but he was giving her the chance to stop it all now before irreparable damage was done. The last thing she wanted to do was stop, and something inside told her that more damage would be done by stopping now than could ever be done by what was about to happen. This was the one thing she had ever done for herself, of her own free will, and she had never wanted anything more in her life.

Isabelle shrugged the ruined dress from her arms, and Jacob's hands smoothed it down exposing more of her body to the thrill of the gentle breeze blowing through the trees. The roughness of his linen shirt made her gasp for air, as it scraped gently across the sensitive skin. Her hands found the hem of it and pulled upward slowly, lingering to savor the feel of the smooth skin covering the hardness of the muscular body beneath it.

They broke their kiss only for the moment it took to pull the shirt completely off between the two of them and then came rushing back together in a tangle of lips and bodies and half discarded clothing. It must have taken only moments to reach this point, but to Isabelle it had seemed torturously slow. She lived a lifetime between the time she put her lips on his and the instant her breasts made contact with the skin of his chest.

That was the exact moment her heart chose to attempt to wrench itself forcefully from her chest. It fluttered so wildly that a trapped beast could offer it no competition for ferocity, and rather than abating as the storm raged on between the two of them, it only seemed to increase its tempo, until it ran at a frightening pace.

Isabelle could no longer tell where her body ended and Jacob's began, and she had never felt more complete in her life. She breathed him in with every inhalation, taking him in and making him a part of her body and soul. This continued on until she was certain she would die if it continued. At that moment, something shook her body, and it felt as if she had been plunged into a frozen lake of ice. The cold of it put out the fire that threatened to burn her alive.

Slowly, she drifted back into awareness of her surroundings. The rest of the world had ceased to exist for the expanse of time the two of them had been together, and now it came roaring back to life as though it had only frozen in place for the moment. The cool of the night air twisted around and between them, bringing them both back to reality.

Jacob wrapped his arms around her body, pulling them together and planting a small kiss on her forehead. "Ma bella, ma coeur," he whispered in her ear, sending a tingle down her body every place where it is still in contact with his. He ran his fingers down her side gently, making her gasp for air with every brush of a fingertip against her body.

They lay there together under the most brilliant full moon, watching the stars make their nightly dance across the sky, and for the moment Isabelle was able to forget all that waited for her on the other side of those trees.

-x-x-x-

A/N: Well, I guess now you can see why I was nervous. Let me know how I did.


	23. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Twilight. All the things that Stephenie Meyer came up with in her little dream world are hers and hers alone. I just like to make the characters do things to amuse me. It makes me feel god-like.**

**A/N: I know it's been forever since I updated. Sorry I won't make excuses, and I won't promise you that it won't happen again. I do promise to finish this story before I die, unless I get hit by a bus, and then you can all come to my funeral and complain to my urn about why I didn't work faster LOL. Just kidding. I hope you enjoy this one. **

**This chapter owes its existence to The Smashing Pumpkins for their album Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, and most especially the song By Starlight. I'm an old fan of theirs, and I just happened upon this song on my iTunes shuffle as I was writing. It fit perfectly and therefore got put on constant repeat for a few hours while I wrote. **

**One last thing and then I'll let you have the update already, this story is taking a twist I didn't plan for. I think it's a better one than what I had planned. I seriously hope so at least. This may be longer than I initially thought. If you want to complain you know how to use the review button, but I didn't think any of you would mind a little more of Jacob and Isabelle. *grins***

**-x-x-x-**

"And now as the darkness approaches,

my appetite whetted by the rising moon,

ravenous thoughts consuming me,

forcing me to madness at the lush pain of it all

I raise my voice to the stars

and surrender."

-From "Wolf" by Carrie Miner

-x-x-x-

Madame Esme woke with the sunrise and rose as softly as possible so as to not disturb the girl sleeping quietly next to her. They had both had a late night, and she was certain that the young girl could use the rest. She must be unaccustomed to such hard labor as the prior evening had brought her.

However, as she glanced at Isabelle, there seemed to be a look of almost angelic splendor across the girl's face. She had always been beautiful, even as a babe, but the expression on her face transcended that earthly beauty and had become something indescribable. In a moment, the sunlight streaming through the window shifted, and Isabelle's face was cast in shadow, losing some of the shining quality it had held. Esme stood for a moment, studying the room around her to ensure that something unknown was not affecting her vision before she continued about her morning duties.

Isabelle stirred in her sleep, the changing light rousing her slightly from her dream-state, and turned on her side, curling up like a small child left to sleep in her mother's bed. Soundlessly, she returned to the visions that played themselves out behind her eyelids, a world where she was free to be herself and keep everything that she loved without sacrificing the only life she had ever known. She smiled gently and sighed just before opening her eyes to a new morning in the real world.

Everything about it looked different to her, as though she were seeing it through new eyes – the eyes of a woman rather than a child—and she wondered exactly how much about her had changed. Would everyone be able to see the difference in her or was it just another shift in her awareness of the world that led her to see even the fingers of her own hand in a new light.

The play of the light across the wooden beams of the floor held her fascinated until the sound of Esme shuffling in through the back door of the cottage startled her out of her reverie with a gasp.

"Oh ma chere, I'm so sorry. Did I wake you?" Esme hurried over, her voice laced with motherly concern. "I thought you could use as much rest as possible after such an eventful evening."

Isabelle could feel the blood begin pooling in her cheeks at the implications Esme's words held. "No, no," she answered a little too quickly. "I woke on my own." She reluctantly swung her legs out from beneath the bedding and let her feet hit the floor. Suddenly, she could feel the strain of the night before in every muscle of her body. Stretching, she enjoyed the unfamiliar yet not entirely unpleasant ache that coursed through her.

Esme went about her morning chores, and Isabelle could hear the sound of her voice droning through her subconscious mind, but her attention was elsewhere. Her mind relived the events of the night, and she could feel the sensation of each and every caress of Jacob's strong hands across her skin. She could almost feel the brush of his breath across the skin at the joining of her neck and shoulder, and just the memory of it sent a smattering of goose pimples playing across her skin.

She smiled gently, running a hand across her shoulder and began humming a little song to herself as she readied herself, smoothing and straightening out her dress and finding her shoes where she'd kicked them off under the edge of the bed in the early hours of the morning just before the sun had begun to redden the horizon.

The day seemed to drag on into eternity as she went about the chores she was assigned. Time crept on leaded feet, and there were moments when she could have sworn hours travelled past before the sun had travelled an inch through the sky. She had never experienced anything like it, and the sensation was not entirely unpleasant except for the absence of a certain person who might make it all travel by so much more quickly. Part of Isabelle's heart wanted nothing more in the world to see his bright smile again, but another part of her was uncertain, scared that something about her was woefully inadequate for him. She was terrified that now that he had seen her for what she truly was, now that she had opened up herself body and soul to him, he would know that she was nothing she was supposed to be and would leave her alone for the horrible person she really was.

Isabelle stopped working for a moment, gathering the stray locks of hair that had fallen from the ribbon she had used to tie it back and looked into the dazzling blue of the sky today. The weather was beginning to warm up, and the sun was slowly rising higher and higher into the sky. She enjoyed the warmth of it shining down on the creamy paleness of her skin, closing her eyes to savor the way it eased her fears, like the melting of the ice that she had used to encase her heart.

She became so lost in the sensation that the sound of a twig cracking beneath someone's foot just behind her startled her nearly into screaming. She stood quickly, whirling around to find Jacob, staring at her with an odd look on his face. Her hands itched to reach out and touch his cheek, to have him wrap his arms around her and envelop her in the warmth that made the sun seem like the flame of a candle in comparison, but something in his expression held her back and kept her frozen in place.

The two of them stood without talking for moments that passed as slowly as centuries. She didn't even dare to breathe lest she disturb the tenuous silence that was almost certainly keeping certain disaster at bay. But nothing can last forever, and disaster has a way of finding a path through the stumbling blocks that we vainly try to place in its path. Nothing can stop the flow of it once it begins sweeping away all the carefully constructed pieces of your existence.

Jacob broke the silence first, and his voice was empty of emotion when he spoke, freezing her heart just as it had begun to thaw.

"Isabelle, I…," he began and ended, leaving the pause hanging in the air like a noose meant for her.

-x-x-x-

**A/N: Yep, I left you hanging. I can't help myself, I am a self-proclaimed cliffie hoor. Enjoy it.**

**While I have your attention, I'm beta reading a new fic by my BFF ThatPanicGirleE. You should read it, not just because I beta read it, but because it is made of all kinds of awesome. New Moon Hollow… It's a Bella/Jasper fic and made of win because it's about a farm that reminds me a lot of my own.**


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: The world of Twilight belongs to some woman from Utah who misspells her first name. My apologies if your first name is Stephenie too… **

**A/N: This is going to be a short one, but I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. I'm enjoying writing again. Thanks to TheMightyRen and ThatPanicGirleE for making be believe I can actually write again. I was starting to get worried there for a bit. **

-x-x-x-

"The wolf, I knew, would lead me deep into the woods,  
away from home, to a dark tangled thorny place  
lit by the eyes of owls."

-From "Little Red Cap" by Carol Ann Duffy

-x-x-x-

He watched the pair of them as silently as possible from the safe darkness of the trees. Listening as the young man made his excuses to the girl who stood before him, her heart thrumming away like a bird's as he poured his poisonous words of pretty treason into the girl's ears. It was impossible to tell how much the girl really knew or how much she had guessed, but it was time to end this little fantasy of Jacob's.

He could only play human for a little while before the reality of his existence would come crashing down around his ears. Just like his father, that one.

The wolf pacing in the shadows sniffed the air; he could smell the fresh, salty tears running down the young girl's face, and it stirred a hunger within him. She was tempting this one. He could see why the young one was so taken with her. He had been willing to give up anything, well almost anything, to be with her, but everyone had their price. Jacob's hadn't been too hard to find.

In the end, it had been surprisingly easy to ensure his compliance, surprisingly simple enough to get him to abandon this girl. She would heal. The broken pieces of her heart would grow together once again into almost exactly the same shape. Besides, her life wasn't her own to direct any longer. She belonged to her father, to her fiancé, to nearly everyone else besides herself. Her destiny had long been decided, and nothing but disaster could come from defying it.

The wolf watched a few moments longer, pacing nervously as Jacob tore himself away from Isabelle's arms and ran for the forest, changing in midstep, and leaping through the trees away from the source of his heartache. The sound that tore through the forest behind him was the most mournful thing, that the wolf had ever heard, the sound of a heart breaking, of hopes being dashed against the rocks. The howl was met with the sound of another and another, echoes hanging in the air like ghosts. He raised his own voice to join them in the song of loss before running towards the source of the cry, leaving the girl sobbing in his wake.

-x-x-x-

A/N: Because I know you're going to ask. This is not the same wolf that the other wolf POV chaps are from. Let me know what you thought.


End file.
